I like my people one lot at a time

I’m really not too sure how I feel about clubs. Of any type.

I always saw myself as someone who was comfortable with my own company, preferring to pore over the pros and cons of an argument in my own head knowing I’d be happy with the outcome.

Sitting by the radio listening to some other fool gibber about something that’s impacting their life that day, a selection of music someone’s taken the time to compile, or the occasional Saturday afternoon with a race caller positioning ponies in my head, only to realise the one I’d invested heavily in wasn’t worth a mention.

Or a good book. I’m beyond self-help, so I tend to play the voyeur into other people’s lives with a well-researched biography.

Clubs on the other hand, require interaction. I know that’s supposed to be the attraction. But is it?

Wanda loves being around people, although I’m convinced she’s more intent on learning the welfare of others than she is in looking after her own.

Anyone who’s played cards in pairs knows the drill. As my direct opponent and I eyeball each other with a scowl that passes for poker face, our partners are solving the neighbour’s lifestyle issues.

And maybe therein lies my aversion to clubs.

Most of them are competitive, and I find myself being there to win. “It’s not the winning, it’s the taking part that counts.” My left foot it is.

If I’m in a contest and the mission is to win, that’s what I’ll darn well endeavour to do. With all I’ve got. And with whatever it takes.

If I know Geoffrey’s a screamer after five ponies at bowls, then I’m going to the bar on five occasions before tea to ensure I’m in with a chance of picking up the meat tray.

The cost of the beer is worth averting the risk of returning home with my tail between my legs because deep down I know I’m a better player than Geoffrey, and I know Wanda’s going to ask how I went. I’d rather not lie, so win at all costs it is.

Cards is the same. Yes, there’s an element of luck. But if we’re playing for a few bob, luck has no place. If I’ve lost, it means I’ve been out-thought.

I could go to the men’s shed, but there’s far too much talent around a lathe for my liking. Fitness classes – scough at the suggestion. Yoga –  I’m not doing anyone’s dog. Walking – that’s me time.

I have vices, but none of them warrant a visit to “club anonymous”. Wanda and I dance, but I don’t need a club to do that – just a Barry Manilow record and a cheeky smile. Right, Wanda?

I understand the list is longer than that, but you get the point that I’m just not seeing the point in this whole interaction thing.

It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s just that I like them one at a time. And of my own choosing. Preferably discussing my own topic.

I can be turned, I’m sure. Maybe I just need convincing.