I am an introvert. This doesn’t mean I’m antisocial—I actually do quite enjoy going out with friends and with my significant other. Hell, my entire job revolves around interacting with people and being “on” for 300-person auditoriums. It’s just that these activities, personal and professional, require a great deal of energy on my part. It takes a certain amount of effort to be “on,” whether it is for my students, my friends, or my boyfriend. Sometimes I need to turn myself “off,” so to speak, and claim time just for myself. And, most often, this means staying at home and hiding from social interaction for a while—turning on Netflix, cooking for myself or getting takeout, and chilling with my cat. What you might expect from an introvert.
I talked a little last week about self-care. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Taking care of yourself, it turns out, also requires effort—particularly when you’ve neglected yourself and your needs for so long in favor of dissertating, working, and pleasing others. I fulfill my obligations and I make other people happy, but it hasn’t often occurred to me that maybe I should put myself first once in a while. That’s where my recent focus on self-care is coming from.
One of the self-care activities I’m rediscovering is taking myself out on dates. That probably sounds a little sad, but I can assure you that it is anything but. When I was single, I often took myself out to dinner and a movie on Friday nights. It was something I could look forward to all week and savor once Friday evening finally arrived. I even had a regular restaurant I went to nearly every Friday—La Herradura in Lakewood, New York, a Mexican restaurant (long since shut down) that I would probably consider mediocre by my standards today, but a real treasure in that neck of the woods. Just down the road was a Dipson movie theater, and after the movie I would head over to La Herradura. I often had a long wait (sometimes an hour or more), because it was a small restaurant that was in high demand on Friday night, but it was always worth it. I got the same thing every week: beef enchiladas with ranchero sauce and a fried ice cream for dessert, plus my chips and salsa. (If that sounds gluttonous, I actually lost about 70 pounds on the La-Herradura-on-Friday-night diet, so there.) Servers knew who I was, and a few knew my order when I walked in—I tipped well, so service was top-notch. It was a treat, and I really did feel like I was pampering myself every Friday.
I’m not single anymore, and when I go out on dates now, it is with another human being. I think that’s how I fell out of the habit of treating myself. The BF and I have some distance between us, so it’s not like we’re going out every week. I often crave a nice meal out at a restaurant, but when he’s not around and friends aren’t available, it hasn’t occurred to me until recently that I can go out by myself. But I’m starting to get back into the habit, and I’m loving it. And the thing about Houston is that there are so many great restaurants featuring food from all over the world—it seems like a waste not to go out and enjoy them.
There are many reasons to dine out alone, some of which I’m just now discovering since I’m approaching it from a different perspective than I used to have. For me, eating alone is a sensory experience that I can’t get if I have dinner companions. I can take time to enjoy—really enjoy—the food. But I can also observe. I can people-watch and hear fragments of conversations around me, which is sometimes quite fascinating (especially if that conversation is political). It is interesting to see how many others are eating alone, and how miserable people eating with children seem to be. There is something almost meditative about the experience, too. I enjoy taking my iPad with me and enjoying a nice, long read while I wait on my food and as I’m eating. And, most importantly, I don’t have to be “on.” I don’t have to entertain somebody else or keep a conversation going. Most servers, in my experience, seem to recognize that I’m there for some “me” time and—other than bringing my food and refilling drinks—don’t have much of a presence at my table. Other times, servers chat me up more than they would if I had companions, and that is fine, too (again, I’m not antisocial). I can eat what I want without worrying about judgment if I want dessert—and, along the same lines, I can eat where I want without worrying about whether another person is enjoying my choice of restaurant. Really, the only drawback to eating alone is that sometimes servers, perhaps assuming the tip is going to be mediocre and their attention is better placed elsewhere, outright neglect my single table (although that is rare and, in that case, I’m happy to reinforce their assumption). If there is a stigma attached to eating alone, I can’t imagine why.
What are your thoughts on dining alone? Any other activities you enjoy doing by yourself? What do you want to kibitz about tonight?