There are at least 3 draws to going to the theater that I can see, and I seem to have problem with each of them.

1. The history. When you go to the theater, you’re taking part in the history of live performance as well as the design of the theater itself. You’re part of a tradition but perhaps more important, you can step into the past and experience something that others before you have experienced. You have the chance to see through their eyes and to sit where they sat. It’s all the more impressive if you know figures in history that have visited the theater or been on stage. For me though, “history” is code for “outdated” or “dangerous.” The seats are too small for me, it hurt to twist my body to see the stage, and it’s a germ hazard. I have no romance for the experience of those who came before me if new technologies render these hazards unnecessary.
2. The collective. The theater experience is a group effort, where people from diverse backgrounds have an opportunity to convene, cooperate, and enjoy an experience they can share with each other. For me, this is harrowing. We all have different physical and emotional needs and it’s difficult to compromise by sitting next to many strangers and following directions from theater personnel. Also, you’re deferent to market forces when it comes to the loudness of the speakers. For example, I’ve been to a small theater where the noise from the seats would often go above 100 dB, and when I asked the technician about it, they said that people really like it (and in this theater, BYOB is allowed). Besides my hearing issues, this is proven to be a dangerous level of sound. I’m in danger because the theater has to sell enough tickets to keep afloat, and to do that, they have to give the masses what they want. No amount of imagined camaraderie could grant me enough deindividuation to ignore the discomfort and danger I’m exposed to.
3. The aesthetic. In a large, ornate theater, the architecture is often impressive. The set design and the costumes can be rich and ingenious. When it comes to musicals in particular, you can hear live voice, dance, and an orchestra. You can be dazzled and surprised by all the sights and sounds. While I admit that there is a quality to this experience that is not replicable by viewing media at home, I’m an investigative person and I like understanding how things work. Often when I’m at a show, unless I’ve studied the aspects of the craft beforehand, I feel assaulted by the experience someone else wants to give me, with little context as to how it came together and why the members of the production made their creative choices. These questions bounce around in my mind and I’m usually unable to take in the sensations, or even follow the plot or the dialogue.

But wait! I forgot to mention how theatergoing is divorced from its historical context. I live in the city, so if I go to a show it’s typically in a busy downtown area. The obnoxious street noises alone makes getting there and waiting outside an extremely miserable ordeal. These theaters were built many decades ago, before highways and sometimes even the automobile. When I go to the theater, I feel like I’m part of a forced nostalgia where I have to experience the inconvenience of the old without being able to escape the nuisances of modern life. Sorry, but pass.