I have not given much thought to creating a bucket list of things I want to do before I die. But I do have a list of what I never want to do before I die.

The items usually involve me being stubborn and reluctant to try something new. It makes no sense and I can’t explain it, as I am very open and flexible about a lot of things.

I have no formal or written list. It lives in the back of my mind, and when someone asks if I want to do one of those things, my immediate response is: Nope!

I draw a hard line on some things, including the following:

Karaoke: Sure, a lot of people look like they are having a great time belting out tunes at a bar. But not me. It may be that I don’t think I have much of a singing voice and it might get embarrassing.

Structured dances: Sort of the dance version of karaoke. Whether it’s disco, line dancing, the Macarena or the Chicken Dance, count me out. I think they are embarrassing and ridiculous. And I would probably do them wrong if I tried. Like the time my mom had me take Irish dance lessons when I was a kid. I lasted one class of spinning in the wrong direction. 

Wearing Crocs: The shoes have gone in and out of style but somehow keep coming back. I don’t follow trends for the sake of following trends. I prefer a lot of traditional things, and I will only join a trend if I like it. I just can’t get over how weird Crocs look.

Rinse and repeat: I always considered this a scam by Big Shampoo to get me to use twice as much as I needed. I’m not falling for it.

Manicures and pedicures: I grew up at a time when pampering yourself was taboo for a guy. While I have had a kind offer for a manicure and pedicure, which I appreciate, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

For better or worse, my list has gotten smaller over the years as I have relented on some items.

I have reluctantly tried some things that I swore I would never do. Among them are:

Going to Yankee Stadium: Growing up as a Mets fan, I was routinely insulted by Yankees fans. I developed a deep hatred for the Yankees, to the point that I would look away when driving past their ballfield. I made an exception when Pope Benedict XVI came there for a Mass in 2008. If that doesn't get me into heaven, nothing will.

Seafood: The only seafood I ate growing up was tuna fish. I made that exception, but I really can’t explain why, except maybe the mayonnaise made it taste less like fish. But in recent years, I have found some seafood is good.

Yoga: I started doing yoga once or twice a week in a class taught by a friend when I was training for triathlons. I always felt awkward in yoga class, and I couldn't help but laugh when I couldn’t do something. But it very much helped to stretch.

Massages: The same rationale as manicures and pedicures applies. I always considered getting a massage as wimpy. Playing sports for years, pain was part of the process. You shut up and lived with it.

I finally got a couple of massages because they were offered for free after half-marathons I ran at Cornell University. I felt guilty the whole time and apologized to the masseuse.

While massages fell off my “won’t do” list, they are now on my “won’t-do-again" list.

Working It Out is the reincarnation of a column by the same name that reporter Kevin Conlon wrote weekly for more than six years for the Cortland Standard newspaper, where he worked as city editor before joining the Cape Gazette staff.