I used to think social hobbies weren’t for me. You know the drill—some well-meaning person suggests you “just put yourself out there,” and you roll your eyes because, yeah, that’s not how it works. If you’re introverted, socially awkward, or just not naturally outgoing, the idea of casually strolling into a new social setting and effortlessly making friends sounds like a fantasy. But here’s the thing: I actually did it. And it worked.
For reference, I’m 5’2, Asian, and pretty awkward in social settings. After graduating college, I spent six or seven years with no real social life. I worked, went home, played video games, and spent way too much time on the internet. Weekends weren’t much different—just an extra two days of doing nothing significant.
Then, one day, I randomly browsed Meetup.com. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular—just scrolling through groups in my area—and I saw a local tennis group. I had played a little in high school. I wasn’t any good, but I remembered it being fun. At this point, I was wildly out of shape from sitting on my ass for the past seven years. I wasn’t even going to the gym. But for whatever reason, I decided, Screw it. Let’s see what happens.
I dug an old racquet out of the garage and went to the park to hit against a wall a couple of times so I wouldn’t be a total disaster. And then, I actually showed up to the first meeting.
The Most Intimidating Part: Walking In
I don’t know if I’ve ever been more nervous about something so objectively low-stakes. The group advertised itself as “all skill levels welcome,” but my brain wasn’t buying it. I assumed everyone already knew each other, and I’d just be this random new guy awkwardly trying to fit in. Worse, I was worried about making a fool of myself on the court.
But none of that mattered.
From the moment I got there, everyone was welcoming as hell. There were no weird cliques. Nobody cared that I sucked. People were friendly, engaging, and—most importantly—just there to have a good time. The great thing about tennis is that most of the time, you’re just playing, so the socializing part is light and natural. No forced small talk, no awkward “getting to know you” icebreakers. Just play, chat between games, and let things happen.
How It Snowballed Into an Actual Social Life
I kept going back. It became part of my routine. Eventually, I started making real friends. After games, we’d grab a bite to eat. Then it turned into going to the movies, attending events, and even getting invited to house parties. I made two close friends that I’d hang out with one-on-one and about a dozen casual friends I saw regularly in group settings.
Then, after two years, something clicked—I actually got good at tennis. Not pro-level or anything, but solid enough to join a local team and play in a league. And this is where things got even better. I joined a mixed team (equal male-to-female ratio), and suddenly, I had even more social opportunities.
We started traveling for tournaments—mini-vacations where we’d split hotel rooms or rent a house, play our matches, and then just hang out the rest of the time. These trips became some of the best experiences of my life.
The best part? These leagues are skill-based, so even if you’re a beginner, you can still compete. It’s not about being great—it’s about playing with people at your level, getting better, and having fun.
What I Learned (and Why It Might Work for You)
I used to say, Sports just aren’t for me. I thought I was too “nerdy,” too uncoordinated, or just not the type. But that was just an excuse. Like anything, it takes practice. And once I got into it, it became addicting.
Did I find a significant other through tennis? Nope. But I built a social life from nothing. I made friends. I found something I genuinely loved doing. And most importantly, I stopped spending my life just existing online and actually started living.
So if you’re sitting there, thinking, That wouldn’t work for me—I get it. But I promise you, it’s worth trying. Maybe it’s not tennis for you. Maybe it’s rock climbing, ultimate frisbee, a board game group, or a hiking club. The activity matters less than the fact that it puts you in a space where casual, low-pressure socializing happens naturally.
You don’t have to be great at it. You just have to show up.