[This is part 3 of the 3-part series on becoming a regular. Read part 1 here and part 2 here.]

Becoming a “regular” is one of the easiest ways to jumpstart your social life. But you have defenses against it.

I know I did. Here are the two biggest defenses, where they come from, and how to slash them.

Defense #1: It’s Too Expensive

This was a big one for me. Always been an excuse not to take action, in my social life and elsewhere.

I’d find a way to spend $75 at the bar, but if it came to spending an extra $75 for a gym membership, suddenly I wasn’t about it.

It’s bullshit.

I’ve been broke as fuck and financially comfortable many times in my life, and I can tell you:

If you’re poor, you are the last authority you should take money advice from.

Think about it…why would you know what’s a good investment of your resources? If you were good at investing resources, you wouldn’t be poor.

So it costs an extra $100 a month to be a member at a pottery studio? It costs an extra $50 a week to be a regular at a restaurant?

I promise you:

If you do it long enough, the money you spend will come back to you in abstract and tangible ways you can’t imagine yet:

• You’ll make friends.

• People you meet will find you a job.

• You’ll find dates.

• You’ll gain confidence.

• You’ll belong somewhere.

If those things aren’t worth a few extra bucks a month, then I got nothin’ for ya, slick. Enjoy your victimhood.

But for the sake of argument, let’s say you’re truly dirt broke. Have actually zero fuckin’ money.

I’ve been there before. As recently as the last 18 months. I had a date planned where we were gonna go to a yoga class then rock climbing.

I had to cancel the rock climbing part because I didn’t have the $10 to get my date rental shoes. I could’ve asked her to buy her own shoes and it would’ve been fine, I’m sure. But that’s not the point.

The point is, shit happens. Life fucks you, and you either choose to fuck it back or wilt in your impotence.

Free Places to Be a Regular

Can’t afford a sandwich at the deli you want to make your regular spot?

You can be a regular at the fuckin’ park. If you have a dog, this is a no-brainer. If there’s a popular park in your area, go there at the same time every day and you’ll see the same folks. You almost can’t help but meet them.

Don’t have a dog, and don’t want to be a weird park lady? Okay, try a coffee shop. Most busy coffee shops dgaf if you buy anything or not. They’re busy serving actual customers. You can chill, use their WiFi to search for jobs for your brokeass, and have a good time.

Don’t like coffee?

That’s missing the fuckin’ point! Just show up.

If you’re reilgious, it doesn’t cost anything to go to church. And you’re likely to find like-minded people there too.

How Do You Spend Your Money?

I spend about $200 a month on memberships for my yoga studio and rock climbing gym. The thing is, my climbing gym offers yoga classes too. There’s an old part of me—the destructively frugal part—that would have cancelled my yoga membership under the guise of fiscal responsibility.

“I can take yoga classes at the rock climbing gym—I don’t need the other yoga membership!”

That part of me was dumb and short-sighted.

I've formed countless relationships through my yoga studio. Canceling that membership would mean missing out on nurturing those relationships and forming new ones.

Keeping both memberships is literally the best investment I can make.

In what ways are you depriving yourself under the guise of frugality?

Defense #2: You’ll Look Like a Creep

This used to be a big one for me.

I had some story in my head about looking like a loser showing up to the same place every day.

• “What if the yoga teachers think I’m a creepy stalker guy?”

• “What if the waitresses think I don’t have a life besides coming here every week?”

• “What if the bartender thinks I’m an alcoholic with nowhere else to go?”

Eventually I realized:

You actually add value to a place when you become a regular. I don’t care if it’s a gym, restaurant, or yoga studio: the people who work there love seeing familiar faces. It makes the venue feel more like home for them too.

We assume others are hyper-focused on us, because we’re hyper-focused on ourselves.

In reality, everyone is so preoccupied by their own bullshit that they don’t even notice the world around them, let alone you.

When I first started going to yoga, I worried I wasn't as advanced as other students. I thought I might come off as some creep just there to check out women.

Then I discovered two things:

First, because the classes were filled with mostly women, they actually appreciated a man in class, especially a beginner. And the teachers were happy to share their knowledge with a newcomer like me (that’s why they teach).

And second, as I got to know the women in the studio, I realized how many of them were interested in meeting and dating men from the yoga.

“I’m Too Ugly”

You might think this stuff only works if you're attractive. That's another excuse. Sure, some of us are severely fucked from birth. No doubt about it.

If you have Quasimodo genetics, life will be harder for you.

But for most of us, we severely underestimate just how malleable our physiology is. Because to admit that would mean to recognize that your attractiveness is more of a choice than you’d prefer to admit.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.” —Marianne Williamson

Trust me, dude.

Am I an attractive guy? Sure. But I’m not some Adonis.

Am I charismatic? Yes—but I wasn’t always.

I had to work hard at both, you understand? I used to be a fat fuckin’ loser, and I had to bust my ass to get out of it.

Jesus, I digress…

My point is, no matter the venue—restaurant, bar, class—nobody cares much about what you're doing. They're consumed by their own insecurities, just like you.

If you're reading this, you likely err on the side of holding yourself back for fear of seeming creepy. But genuine creeps lack the self-awareness to figure this stuff out. You're already way ahead of them.

Take a Chance

At the end of the day, we regret the chances we don’t take.

Becoming a regular is an act of courage. It requires facing our deepest insecurities—financial, social, even existential.

If you push past them, you may find that there’s a community of people waiting, not even realizing it’s you they’re waiting for.