Very recently, at the age of 56, I sat in a restaurant and had a meal by myself for the first time in my life. It’s been an idea I’ve considered for a while, viewing it as a challenge of personal strength. I was surprised to read recently that solo diners made up approximately 35% of dining parties in the year 2019, and that it’s a statistic on the rise. However, only 10% of that number takes place in full service restaurants. I’m sure we all know in our heads that being alone is not the same as being lonely, but it’s still difficult to overcome the fear of how we will be viewed by others. Personally, I do enjoy my own company.
While we know social interaction is key for happiness for most of us, being alone also has its benefits. You can enjoy what you most want to do, as opposed to going along with someone else’s plan. And you can do it at your own pace. When you’re alone, you don’t have to make conversation, so you’re often more fully in the moment, enjoying everything that assails your senses, and having time to explore your own thoughts, uninterrupted. It really is an opportunity to learn more about yourself. As with most things in life, it’s about balance. Participating in solitary actions AND group activities is probably your best life strategy.
So why such a stigma on dining alone? I guess it’s the feeling that the solitary diner doesn’t have any friends or anyone who was willing to dine with them. Pretty silly. Is it a throwback from schooltime cafeteria experiences of sitting alone at lunch? Maybe. Have you ever witnessed a solo diner while you were out with a group and thought, “Oh that’s sad, he’s eating alone.”? I’m guilty of this. But I boldly decided on this day to not care what anyone else thinks. It helped that I selected a restaurant that was out of town, where I was unlikely to run into anyone I knew. And not only did I not know any of these people, it was pretty certain that I would never see any of them ever again.
To be honest, what facilitated the recent decision was more about my love for pizza. I’ve recently developed a bit of an obsession with local bar pizza and have been trying different spots known to be favorites, largely based on recommendations from a local Facebook group dedicated to the delicious delicacies.
On this particular Sunday, I found myself alone, and not having much I needed to accomplish, so I thought I would tackle 2 personal goals by trying a new pizza restaurant and dining alone. I decided to try a larger restaurant, very family oriented, with a full bar and plenty of seating. This was not a takeout restaurant, but a full service dine-in restaurant. I could immediately see, upon pulling into the large parking lot, that the restaurant was busy. As I entered the building, it was evident that there were quite a few parties waiting to be seated. I boldly went up to the hostess table and requested, “Table for one, please.” and offered my name. I moved into the waiting crowd.
My resolve was very quickly challenged when I heard the hostess calling for the next waiting group. “David, party of 4. . .” Oh no. She had to mention the number of people in the group?? I came very close to turning around and walking out at that moment. But I convinced myself to be brave. My next potential “out” came when I noticed the sign that said, “cash only.” Oh come on, who carries cash anymore? I once again considered leaving. But I saw the sign for an ATM on location and for the second time, I convinced myself to stay. While I waited, I observed the dining room. Plenty of tables, almost all occupied. I secretly hoped for a spot in the back corner, against the wall, where I could enjoy my pizza while being virtually unnoticed.
Fortunately, the wait was not long, so I didn’t have to contemplate more “should I stay or should I go?” moments. I soon heard, “Cheryl, table for one.” I held my head high and followed the hostess into the dining area. Although I had envisioned dozens of heads swiveling toward me to see who the sad party of one consisted of, but really, I didn’t see anyone so much as glance my way. As we passed several nice booths that would have been inconspicuous, I continued following the hostess into what was definitely more the center of the restaurant. We stepped up a couple of steps into an area with mostly booths along the wall, and then I noticed one table set up parallel to the booths. Yep. One table. Oh boy. Please don’t take me to that table I silently wished. But of course that was exactly where we were headed. It looked as though the table had been placed there specifically to seat me. I took my seat and immediately put my head down and started to look over the menu. Despite the increasing statistic of solo diners, I did not see any others in the restaurant on that day, but I had picked a very social restaurant, and also a time that would be very amenable to families and larger groups.
My waitress was great. She didn’t ask if I was still waiting for someone and never made me feel like I was somehow less important for being alone. I kind of felt bad for her. Like I was keeping her from a more generous tip by holding up this table, or keeping her from other tables. I ordered my pizza, and a beer, and I had also brought a book, so I opened that to read while I waited for my lunch.
I was certainly a little self conscious, both for being alone and being in the center of the restaurant. But each time I looked up, and around the restaurant, no one was looking my way, playing the game I had imagined in my mind of “I wonder what her sad story is?”
I didn’t have long to wait for my meal and I almost forgot my discomfort as I saw the delicious pizza which had, after all, been the purpose of my visit. I momentarily worried that people would be watching as I enjoyed my meal, shocked if I devoured the entire pie, which I usually did. Don’t judge. They’re small. But once again, no one seemed to be paying any attention to me, so I continued reading while I enjoyed this new experience eating slowly and sipping my IPA. When I was finished, I asked my waitress to point me toward the ATM and I walked over to it, getting a chance to check out the remainder of the restaurant. It was a cool place, much bigger than your typical bar pizza spot. After getting some cash I returned to my seat, paid my bill, and took the long, lone walk back to the exit and the parking lot, fully satisfied.
I’m proud of my bravery in experiencing dining alone, and I actually enjoyed it. I love to read so I never mind having more time to do that. And it was nice to have the freedom to make all of the decisions myself. I decided where to go, and when, and what to order. I didn’t have to make conversation and for just one pizza and one beer, the bill was relatively inexpensive. I think I made a good choice choosing a larger restaurant, during a busy, Sunday lunch time. Most people didn’t even notice me, and those who did, didn’t seem to think anything of my eating alone. In terms of favorites, I don’t think I’d place that pizza in my top 5, but I definitely did enjoy it. I would return–dining companions were now optional! And I won’t hesitate to dine alone again. So if you see me, or any other solo dining individual, don’t feel pity or sadness for them. The decision to dine alone was probably a deliberate one for them, and they are having a fine time enjoying their own company. As for me, I’m currently searching for the next “alone” experience. And , of course, the next bar pizza!
F Words that are not 4 Letters 