I was painfully reminded of this recently. Although technically, I wasn’t at a bar but at my health club, which was holding a huge film festival event starting at 10 p.m. and slated to go until 1 a.m. (an ideal time span for everyone to arrive drunk, leave drunk and hopefully get laid – or so they think). And believe me, no one was there to work out.  As we “cruised” the scene, all the memories of my 20s came flooding back and I was surprised to find that I didn’t feel any differently now than I did then – extremely uncomfortable and out of place. Maybe it’s because I live in Orange County – as in “Real Housewives” territory and all the women here are as plastic as credit cards. Fake boobs, hair, eyelashes and dresses so tight they have to be shrink-wrapped on. Let’s also not forget to mention those “Brazillian booties.” Fernanda of OC Housewives “fame” teaches a class by that name at my health club, but if you don’t want to work that hard, there’s a plastic surgeon who will do it for you. Setting all of that aside, I always feel like such a wallflower while my friends are the blooming buds. Because they get all the attention and I get lucky if some loser (and most of them really are losers) takes a second to ask my name before he quickly focuses his attention on said friend. So true to past experience, this guy comes up to my friend and starts hitting on her. He does take 10 seconds to ask my name and then proceeds to tell us (her) how he usually only dates women half his age and that he takes 24 antioxidants a day and doesn’t he look great for being 48 and by the way, there’s this really cool party in LA next week where lots of people in their 30s will be. What a charmer. You should have seen his spray-painted-on hair. Now I should give him a break. I think everyone from LA or the Valley is weird. Always have, probably always will. This just proves my case. And they all think we’re weird and refer to us as “living behind the Orange Curtain.” So, it goes both ways I guess. As usual, I digress. My point is you have to do what’s comfortable for you. But if you know the bar/club arena isn’t one you want to play in, find something that makes you more comfortable. I’m looking into volunteering more and wish I had done that in my 20s. But I was to busy going to bars.

Word to the wise: Go to a bar and chances are you’re bound to find a boob – or two. It’s good to have fun but make sure that’s what you’re really doing. Besides, there’s more to life than just fun. I think…

Are you comfortable in the bar scene? Please share. Note: If I’m lucky enough to get a book deal, your comments may be published anonymously in the upcoming book, “Wise Before 25, 50 Things Young Women Need to Know.”