Party of One

One thing I’ve never been able to understand is dining alone. I worked at a restaurant during the summer months in high school/early college (shout out to Cheddars!) and I used to get SO SAD when someone came in alone. One time, an older man (probably in his seventies) came in and asked for a table for one and I’m pretty sure I ran to the bathroom to have a good cry about it after he was seated.

I used to think, “Who are all of these lonely people and why don’t they have anyone to meet them for a meal?” *As single tear rolls down one cheek a la the 1980s Indian Man “Do Not Litter” commercial.*

Well I think I have a partial answer. Um, they’re traveling on business, idiot. This week, I took my first trip for my new job. The weekend before I left I began quizzing the hubby (who travels somewhat frequently for work), “Where do you eat at night?” “Do you go alone?!” “Where do you sit?” He just looked at me ½ confused, ½ amused and said “Uh, yeah, I just go to a restaurant and eat alone. It’s really not a big deal.”

You know those people who are like “Oh I would totally go to a movie by myself” or “I enjoy quiet time, I’ve totally ate alone in a restaurant before. It’s freeing!”? I am NOT one of those people.

It’s sort of a fear of mine, really. And I’m proud to say that this week, I overcame my fear! It was an Olive Garden and I sat alone at the bar. (Yes, it was as sad as it sounds.) Today, I even took it a step further and sat on the patio of a Smashburger ALONE. I’ll admit, a few people did look at me weird, but I made it through!

What an appropriate way to finish out my 25th year of life (The Big 2-6 is Friday, mind you!).