I’m just not used to having a child who, via Netflix’s The Baby-Sitters’ Club, groks adults going out. I don’t think their parents have been to a club racier or thumpier than the Birchmere (where one partakes of folk music and cider and gets fleeced on parking) since they were ~four.
Tangentially, they mostly like people who identify as girls but anything besides watching Disney+ or MAYBE like making cookies or smoothies = a dumb waste of time. Thank God.