I wouldn't say going out has become a chore, but it has certainly taken on chore-ish qualities. You can't just rock up any more. Do they have room for you? How many of you are there? What if some people can only tentatively commit to coming? Do you book for the maximum and risk turning up short? Or do you underplay it and risk getting turned away?

Booking a table at a pub used to be akin to wearing socks with thongs: anathema to our way of life. Regrettably it crept its way into the mainstream. Now, under COVID-19, it's almost unavoidable.

The brief era of the introvert may be over, but now it's the organised extrovert's time to shine.

It's the same at the local pool, where you now need to lock in a time to swim your laps; and at the gyms, which reopened this weekend, where you'll have to nab a spot in miniature fitness classes or reserve time on the machines.

Booking is, in and of itself, a bit of a downer. Boring old adults book things. It's about committing to a predetermined path, instead of going where the circumstances lead you.

The best nights are always spontaneous, unencumbered by the weight of expectation. The drinks after work that lead to dinner with some people you only just met which morphs into karaoke and dancing and who knows what else. Hedonism can't have a start and an end time.

Of course, we know not everyone shares this particular brand of joie de vivre. There are those that thrive on order, precision and predictability, and who probably love the idea of being enslaved to a 90-minute "dining window" at a restaurant.

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The brief era of the introvert may be over, but now it's the organised extrovert's time to shine. That friend who books in catch-up weeks in advance. The one with the meticulously organised calendar. The one who always makes a reservation and shows up five minutes early. This is their moment.

I don't want to yuck anyone's yum, because we need these people in the world, making lists and spreadsheets and calendar invites, and generally keeping the show functioning. Let's face it: if things were in the hands of the disorganised extroverts, it would be chaos.

But in these shackled times, let's not lose our sense of spontaneity entirely. When the world opens up properly we're going to want a return to the random, the unpredictable, the unplanned and the haphazard. Because booking a table at a pub still sucks.

Michael Koziol is deputy editor of The Sun-Herald, based in Sydney.

See the article here:

It's another coronavirus casualty: the sad death of spontaneity - Sydney Morning Herald