The Great Post-COVID Tug-of-War: Go Out or Stay Home?

There’s a funny irony I’ve noticed in myself these last few years: I want community, connection, and nights out laughing with friends—and yet, nine times out of ten, I’d rather stay home. Staying home almost always wins.

Before COVID, going out was second nature. My friends and I were regulars at movie theaters, restaurants, and new hangouts. We didn’t even need to know what the place was about—if it was new, we were there. Now? I read the reviews, question whether they’re even real, and then quietly decide that the couch, my dogs, and a pot of something simmering on the stove sounds like a much better deal.

I’ve started to joke that there are two types of long COVID. The first is the very real, physical one we’ve all heard about. The second is what I call the social long COVID—where it takes a great deal of perceived value to get me out of the house. Am I the only one?

And here’s where the irony deepens: as I’ve gotten older (and let’s be generous here and say wiser), I’ve realized time and energy are two of the most valuable currencies I have. Spending them at a noisy, overcrowded venue feels less like an investment and more like throwing coins into a slot machine with no payout. I want my energy to go where it matters: toward people I love, conversations that feed my spirit, and experiences that actually leave me richer instead of drained.

Funny thing is, when I was younger, it was the opposite. The noisier the better! The more rooms, lights, and variety, the more alive I felt. There was a place in Houston called City Streets—and oh, did I love it. Picture this: multiple bars and dance floors all under one roof. You could do country in one room, slip over to disco in another (yes, I just wrote the word “disco” in my blog), then head to 80’s pop, vintage rock, and finish the night in the dueling piano bar. It was heaven.

Now? Just thinking about being in a place with that many people and that much movement makes me want to lie down and take a nap. Yep, I’m getting old. Or maybe just seasoned. Or maybe, finally, I’m appreciating my grandparents’ version of fun. Their idea of a good night—cooking at home, inviting friends over, telling stories, and enjoying the quiet—suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Maybe this is what wisdom looks like: realizing that true connection doesn’t need flashing lights, booming speakers, or a packed dance floor. It feels more real in the quieter spaces—around the dinner table, on the back porch, in the living room with the dogs sprawled at our feet.

So yes, the world has changed. And maybe I have too. But if you want to come over, I’ll pour the wine, cook dinner, and we can laugh until our sides hurt. No cover charge, no parking fees, and best of all—no disco ball required.

What about you? Have you felt this shift too—toward quieter, more meaningful connections over the “big nights out”? I’d love to hear your thoughts.