11/14/08. Lunch-time. Central Cafe & Organics.
As I look down at my very veggie lunch wrap in the patio of Central Cafe & Organics in downtown St. Petersburg, I can’t help but look around. Several glances confirm my suspicion: I am the only solo diner. I pause mid-bite, considering. I find myself wondering: what is it about dining alone? Why do I fear it so?
Since moving to St. Petersburg I have never eaten dinner out at a restaurant alone. I have picked up sandwiches at Panera, entrees at Rolling Oats Market, burritos from the nearby Chipotle or Tijuana Flats. But never have I ever… eaten diner out by myself!
Which then leads to the logical question. Have I changed since coming down to Florida? Did I eat out for dinner in New York? No, I decide, I have not fundamentally changed. I would occasionally dine solo in the Big Apple (but Sunday to Wednesday only, almost always sitting at a crowded bar). What does this say? I’d rather stay home (not even to cook my own food, because cooking alone is an even more sobering experience–all that effort and then no one to share the delectable end result with.) No, I’d rather stay home alone and eat a Lean Cuisine or Amy’s frozen meal than find myself asking for “a table for one, please.”
What holds me back?
As a new person to town, it should be even more acceptable for me to enjoy a solitary meal in public. Somehow, however, I can’t help but cringe.
The scenario:
Me: “A table for one.”
Hostess: “No one else?”
Me: “No, just one!”
I have to say it several times before the host or hostess understands. Then, I, the lonely gal, am taken to the absolutely worst table in the restaurant over in the corner or right next to the service station. Over and over I have to tell the waiter and the busboy that “No, no one else is coming. It’s just me.” It grows unbearable and I nearly want to just scream “No, No, No! No one else is coming; it’s just ME! Okay?”
Meanwhile, I worry that strangers are observing and judging my lonesome self. They always look confused. Clearly, a good looking girl like I am would never be eating alone? In my fellow diners minds, there are only two possibilities: I have either been stood up by my date (such a tragedy and I get those sad, sympathetic smiles from the old ladies) or else I must be from out of town and visiting on business. The idea of eating out by oneself for the fun of it–for the pleasures of enjoying a good meal never enters the picture. And then, why can’t these other diners ever pay just a little more attention to themselves and their own busy lives, and stop watching me try to eat?? It’s hard to put a fork to my mouth when the lady at the next table loudly comments to her husband about that “poor thing.” That “poor thing” being me, of course. Me–the pathetic, lonely diner.
So I don’t go. The scenario is too uncomfortable. I realize that, even at breakfast or lunch, I always go to cafes, coffee shops, places that do not have waiter service. How do I break myself of this habit? How do I find the courage to go alone to a restaurant, order dinner, enjoy my food, and say “be damned” to what people think? What gives?
Then it hits me. Why I can’t eat alone. Perhaps…. Perhaps food is notmeant to be consumed in solitude. That pasta will inevitably taste better with a glass of wine and a warm conversation with a friend or lover.
I know that sounds silly. This notion that it takes a companion to really savor eating. MFK Fisher surely would never agree!
But I think food is a social event; dining out is a social event. Food has a social flavor, if you will.
And that’s why it’s so damned hard for me to eat alone. Even at the best restaurant, my food will seem lame without compatriots.
But there must be ways to find a companion in my food. To break out of this social butterfly diner mentality. I want to explore new places and new restaurants. What do I do, dear readers, to become comfortable eating alone?
I’m not sure if it’s possible. If restaurants are a social spot, it will be hard for me to pitch without a team supporting me. To laugh at the failure meals and high-five the victories.
But I aim to give it a shot.
Henceforth, I vow to go to a new Tampa Bay restaurant every week–all by myself. I will try to learn to find the fun in it. And then–then I will enjoy my dinner with friends even more. Enjoy the variations a meal takes with company. And by dining alone? I’ll discover some rocking new restaurants to name drop the next time my friend asks, “where should we go for dinner?
