NTKOG #171: The kind of self-assured, elegant lady who sweeps into a glittery candles-on-tables type establishment and requests said table pour friggin’ un. Once seated, forget about books or computers: sparkling inner monologue all evening long.
I am: never truly alone when I’m fortunate enough to carry a slim volume of Wodehouse, Waugh or any of my other constant companions.
I am not: nearly as entertaining a dinner companion as they are. Also: not particularly nicely humored about suffering a meal with no amusement.
Hypothesis: eating alone, even once, turns you into one of these.
The Scene: A Yelp two-dollar-sign Thai restaurant in Harvard Square. (Hey, that’s what passes as a classy establishment when you’re living off of the change you find in old pants pockets.) While on a break from my nightly writing, was brain-hijacked by a brutal craving for Pad Thai. Made my way downstairs and asked the hostess for a table for one.
Hostess: Sure, take-out for one?
TKOG: No, a table for one.
Hostess: Yes, take a table while we make your take-out. Five minutes.
TKOG: Dude, I want to eat at a table. Off of a plate!
As I set myself up at my table (fingers twitching to grab my copy of Scoop), couldn’t help but notice it was apparently official Cambridge date night. To my left, an elderly couple held hands while nibbling dumplings; on my right, a pair of undergrads tenderly tongue-kissed noodles into each other’s mouths. Lovely.
Averted my eyes as I gingerly embarked on my fancy-empowered-lady inner monologue. And, guys, have you ever gone out for a one-on-one dinner with your same-sex best friend and, sometime between refilling their wine glass and trying to be a little extra funny, realized that the strictly-hetero hang started to feel a little … like a date? I don’t know how to describe it, but that kind of started happening to me. With myself.
“How’s your week going, dude? How do you really feel? I’m so glad you’re taking this time to reconnect with yourself.”
Gave myself a gentle but firm let’s-just-be-friends rebuff, then settled into thinking about a future writing project. Still, I was glad when the waiter broke the tension by ambling up. Swooped my napkin in my lap while he plonked on the plate — a brown paper bag of take-out.
TKOG: Excuse me! I’m sitting here! I wanted to eat in the restaurant!
Waiter: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you waiting for somebody?
Sigh. Check please.
The Verdict: Once the staff transferred the food from Styrofoam to a proper plate, I actually enjoyed a lovely dinner, and felt not a whit self-conscious while I ate alone, brainstorming future projects. On the whole, though, I think dining alone without a book is a challenge people take on just to prove they can do it. In practice, I found it less pleasant than enjoying an inch or two of fine literature along with my cuisine.
Also, if you are questioning the reality of this exchange, let me assure you: although I’ve been occasionally known to exaggerate, every word of this tale is true. It’s probably the one time in a million that there would be so many miscommunications about the very normal decision to dine alone but, hey, sometimes the universe has a sense of humor, right?
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
I love to eat out alone! you don’t need to wait for orthers orders to arrive, before you can start eating, you can indulge in alcool, in sweets and in your strangest taste without having to explain!
If I’m out on my own and want food, I will take a table for one. I’ve never felt remotely self-conscious about it, but then I always have so much on my mind that I never run out of things to talk to myself about! But I can imagine more likelihood of misunderstanding if it’s somewhere you often go for take-away.
Eating alone in my dorm cafeteria is as close as I’ve gotten to eating alone in a restaurant. If I didn’t have a book to read, I felt ridiculous. Which is entirely ridiculous itself because half the people there were eating alone!
I ate alone when I traveled for work. If there was a bar at the restaurant, I usually found myself sitting there and chatting up the bartender.
I used to travel alone for work quite often and would eat out at semi nice restaurants. Sometimes I would gather up work papers to go over while dining, but often I would need a break from them. I don’t really tend to get self-conscious, but I would almost inevitably get the stare from people, as if I had been stood up from some mystery date or something. Really world, not every woman sitting alone at a table is waiting on a man. I promise, some of us chose to be alone!
Exactly! I think it’s worse if the place is nice or if you’re wearing devastatingly lovely clothes. Usually I have no problem because I just grab pizza or soup in a hole-in-the-wall, but sometimes I crave nice food and am between books! On those occasions, I’ll often whip out my Moleskine and spend time planning the day’s writing session, but that’s even worse — I always fear that people will think I’m just writing “oh god why am I eating alone? I hope people don’t notice!” again and again to try to look busy.
Of course, it’s stupid to worry about what people think. But it’s human nature! And it’s also probably the thing that keeps us from becoming total nutbags — have to feel a little peer pressure!
eating alone is such a treat, if i have a book! I could sit there all day long…
I go out to eat alone a lot. I don’t feel weird about it anymore. If I do, though, sometimes I will opt for the seat in the house where it’s okay to be alone; up at the bar, where I will typically have a liquid dinner, consisting of alcoholic milkshakes. A girls gotta get her calcium!
Hahaha I liked the surprise ending!
Dear, perhaps you should eat in restaurants where English is the primary
language.
Maybe it actually is “different for girls”? The only times I’ve ever had problems with a table for one have been when the place has been “stowed to the rafters”, and the greeter/waiter (this never happens in places classy enough that I’d call them the maitre d’) has had to put me at a table with a 3 or another single. That said, as often as not I get invited to join their conversation when that happens.
This reminds me!
Where did you get Ethiopian food? Was it actually near Boston, cause I live in the good ol’ NH and have been thinking about it quite a bit.
I’m gonna be totally bummed if it was in Espana.
Sorry, the restaurant won’t be much help to you — it was in Barcelona. But I’m sure you can find Ethiopean food in Boston via Yelp!
Loving this. I’ve considered, after going to the movies alone, having dinner with myself. I did, once, sort of, but I had my laptop, my book and there were other people around doing the same, so…
I want to dine, with myself, by candlelight. Get all gussied up and order wine. Good wine.
As always, you inspire. Along with “go to the opera”, “dine alone, somewhere fancy” is going on the List.
You rock my socks, but what else is new?
I get antsy when I’m at a bar and the person I’m with goes to the bathroom, leaving me alone for like three minutes, so… I applaud you. I only take myself out to the movies.
Hey, I feel your pain. My personal challenge is not reading or texting while I eat alone, which I do bc I travel for business a lot. Here’s a great survival tip: sit at the bar instead of at a table if you are feeling “alone.” I invariably meet the most interesting people who are eager to have a conversation while they eat…alone. A couple of months ago in Houston, I ate with the coordinator of the events at the park that overlooked the restaurant, and on another night, had a fascinating conversation about the Civil War with two visiting lawyers from Reno.