Just Ed Things

Valentine’s Day as a single man…wait, no, come back! Let me get this paragraph out before you assume it’s just gonna be a sulkfest…stinks. And many single people will often wonder what they’ve done (or haven’t) to get themselves to that point. They spend the holiday wondering what they could do differently and ultimately vowing that next year won’t be the same. Heck, you can go through my Facebook posts from years past and see for yourself. It’s either me sulking because I feel I’ve earned the right to (as if self-deprecation is a reward at the end of a long journey…man, what a shitty journey THAT must be) or trying to put a brave face but leaving obvious cracks in the mask. But ultimately, that thought will still break through the walls of many single people on Valentine’s Day; the thought of “What did I do wrong?” or “What can I do differently?”

Instead I had a different thought in my head this past Valentine’s Day, February 14th, 2026:

“Is 38 too old to be attending your first rave?”

(Yeah! See? Not a sulkfest! You gotta trust me when it comes to affairs of the writing variety!)

That was the thought in my head a mere 15-16 hours ago, as I type this. My legs still feel like Jello, and my ears still contain that slight spice of temporary tinnitis. That’s how tinnitis works, right? I’m still not sure my energy is all back as I ride the high of a Sparkling Ice Caffeine, with all the caffeineenergy sauce (thanks Homestar Runner!) to make you feel like MAAAYBE you can get through the day without that power nap (but DAMN does that power nap feel tempting).

And if I could do it all over again…..I certainly would. Though maybe I make a few different moves.

NakaKon is a convention in Kansas City I’ve been a fan of for many years now. I could go into my story about how it took me 4 years to go to my first one and how finances and work schedules and COVID wiped out the first 3 attempts at me going but…..oh, look at that. That’s basically the story right there.

NakaKon is focused on Japanese culture. Be that anime, gaming, music, traditions, etc. If you’re into a sliver of it, Naka probably has a branch on its tree for it.

A couple years ago I made a real effort to become a part of this community, and eventually found myself a regular contributor to its social channels and eventually a moderator on their Discord server (for as long as Discord is still around, as much as Discord wants to run themselves into the ground). I’ve made a lot of remote friends through my involvement and participation, but never met a whole lot of them in-person.

Naka recently started the “Naka Underground” events, a series of dance parties and social gatherings for people 21+ to attend. And I had some intrepidations in ever attending; would it JUST be people in their lower 20s and I’ll stick out like a sore thumb? Would it be a lot of groups and dates and me showing up solo dolo was just a horrible idea?

And the big question: Is this WAY too far out of my comfort zone?

I mean, there’s stepping out of your bubble and seeing what the world has out there, but is this just too much? Am I WAY too out of my element for such a thing?

I told a ton of friends of mine I was doing, but a couple of friends in particular took vested interest; one who we in the Naka scene lovingly refer to as “Momo”, and my friend Sam. Both of whom have always been encouraging of me stepping out of my comfort zone, though sometimes maybe a little too much “diving into the deep end” for my comfort. These weren’t the ONLY people encouraging me, but they seemed to be the two most “dealt-in”.

Valentine’s Day rolled around and I knew they would both hold me accountable if at this point I stepped out. And the urge to do so was there. Yes, I could stay home, make lame attempts to fill in the Saturday Valentine’s evening, probably end up self-deprecating (or as my friend Becca calls it, “Self-Defecating”, because you’re talking shit on yourself). Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. Same as it ever was. But….that was just it. Same as it ever was. My comfort zone left intact. No expanding my horizons, no stresses, no weird encounters, no making an ass out of myself and possibly having this new community figure out how much of a drooling neanderthal I truly am, like so many communities had before (at least, I felt….though, maybe not).

But I knew I needed to do this. I was sick of sulking on a day like this. And I knew the judges I would answer to wouldn’t take it well. “Momo” might give me an encouraging word and “better luck next time” while being at least a little disappointed “next time” wasn’t “THIS time”. And Sam would’ve thrown some playful insults I won’t repeat here, but would have been disappointed I didn’t go. It’s not the first time he’s tried to get me to participate in social events outside my comfort zone. In fact, I kinda wonder if he (or both of them) almost expected me to not take the step. Wouldn’t be the first, second, or third time I’d stayed in my bubble.

At about 10 after 8 I pulled into the parking lot of the Walgreens across the street. I couldn’t find parking in the same block as the building, and their recommended parking was a half-mile away AND cost $12. That’s 2 1/2 times what my cover charge would’ve been to get to the rave! Fortunately, the Walgreens across the street didn’t seem to care. Maybe they were used to it, maybe they thought I would be back shortly. Maybe they didn’t know I left the car there. Or maybe they would’ve ticketed my car if I let it sit much longer. I don’t know for sure.

But there I was. Standing in the pitch-black night of Westport, the city lights in the horizon, and the ground still wet from the rain earlier in the day. A slight cool breeze blew, making me wish I at least wore a light jacket. But a flannel jacket at a rave in Westport would’ve made me seem somehow even more out of place. So I went without. I didn’t FULLY regret that decision until later in the night when it was time to go, but…maybe in the future I pick a better coat. Already I’m thinking my hoodie would’ve worked fine. Where the hell did I put that thing?

As I walked up I could hear music blasting but had no idea which door it was coming from. I looked through the windows and my eyes saw a strong contrast to what my ears heard. A bar occupied by a few patrons but hardly a jumping hotspot of rave music and bass shaking the walls. But I couldn’t ignore my lying ears. I looked around and saw a second door that suggested this went upstairs. I had a hunch this was where the action was.

After a jaunt up the steps and an awkward exchange of financials with the front door (thanks to the loud music), I was inside.

Club music walked the tightrope of being torturously loud and just right on a night like this. People jumped, pumped, and swayed to the music. And I……

……stood in the back of the room.

What the hell was I doing here?

This isn’t my music. This isn’t my comfort zone. Nobody here knows me. I have no safety net or wingman here.

After about half an hour of trying to dive off the diving board, I stepped into the restroom and locked the door. I could feel the old doubts pulling at me. Get to the door, get out of here, don’t make such a dumb mistake as showing up to something like this alone ever again. You keep convincing yourself this can end differently, and it never does.

And yet……

I just got here. Why the hell was I already deciding how this night would end? It was just getting started!

I wasn’t going to knock my social walls down in the first minute. I wasn’t going to step out of my bubble right away. I wasn’t going to become a “hit” in the scene by standing on the wall.

The old me would’ve waited forever for things to fall into place before making the move. The new me jams the peg until it fits.

So I bent my knees a little, then moved them around some more, and let the thunderous music do its thing. Matching the tempo and moving my arms just a little (turns out I’m not a big arm-mover), I just rode the vibe out for as long as I felt comfortable.

Before I knew it, there were more people behind me on the floor than in front. I was in, and part of the group. And I was enjoying myself, even if the music wasn’t 1:1 the kind of stuff I listen to at 38.

I did find myself stifling a few social urges. I wanted to high-five someone that was handing them out and seemed to not notice me, but certainly would’ve had I held a hand out. I wanted to compliment the outfit of a woman who bumped into me that I thought looked genuinely cool. But I was already taking baby steps and just…..couldn’t.

As I left at about 10:00, I knew my ears would be ringing the next day from all the loud music I heard. But here I was at the end of Valentine’s Day, and instead of sulking that I was single, I took a step that was so far out of my comfort zone I couldn’t see my comfort zone anywhere. And…..it actually worked out. I had fun, I enjoyed myself, and it sure as shit beat a night in alone, trying to defeat the thoughts in my head.

So to go back to the initial question…..is 38 too old to be attending your first rave?

Who cares, man?

Just, ya know, bring some hearing protection next time (Amazon order already placed).

And next time, I’ll break a few more walls down.