New Year’s resolutions are nothing if not predictable. They generally involve quitting smoking, joining the gym or learning something new– and usually get broken within the first two weeks of January.
Pushing aside these generic and tedious mainstream resolutions this year, I focused on the unusual art of ‘enjoying ones own company.’ Braving the negative stigma and embarrassment that usually surrounds doing things you wouldn’t normally do alone would be a challenge.
I confess I have never purposefully eaten dinner alone in public. It is one thing to walk into Gregg’s on your break from work to buy a tuna and sweetcorn sandwich, but it’s another to enter a restaurant and ask if they have any tables for one available.
The connotations are that you’re a strange, lonely woman and no one would like to have dinner with you, therefore you have no other choice than to dine alone.
[pullquote align=”right”]”Walking out of the cinema I immediately called a friend and asked her if she wanted to go for a drink. My alone time was over, and I craved company.”[/pullquote]
My solitary tendencies usually revolve around the comfort of my bedroom, watching the Girls box set and eating endless amounts of cheese. My resolution however was realistic and achievable. Upon getting endless reassurances from my friends that I would be fine, I tackled my first task – the cinema.
My normal cinema trip combines gathering a few friends, buying an abundance of snacks and possibly going for drinks after. An afternoon cinema date for one however was not my forte. I bought my ticket, small popcorn and hurriedly took my seat.
The screening was ridiculously empty; the only other people besides me were five men) also on their own. This made the experience seem less daunting; maybe solo afternoon trips to see a movie are more common than I thought.
Sitting alone through the duration of the film was surprisingly pleasant; having no-one there to share my popcorn with or discuss the plot was peculiar but strangely enjoyable, a feeling I thought I could get used to.
Admittedly however, walking out of the cinema I immediately called a friend and asked her if she wanted to go for a drink. My alone time was over, and I craved company.
Contentment turns to boredom
My second challenge, and the one I was dreading most was dining alone. Walking into the restaurant and uttering the words, “Table for one, please”instantly made me feel very lonely, but the waiter was extremely friendly and no weird ‘you’re here alone’ stares were given, like I’d anticipated.
The waiter was continuously conscientious, running me swiftly through the specials and giving me his opinion on the wine list. Maybe he thought I was a food critic or maybe he just felt sorry for me – who knows, but his attentiveness was welcome.
I do grasp the practicalities of a dining alone. It’s undeniably easier to get a single seat for one, specifically in restaurants with bar-style seating. It’s also cheaper and faster.
But despite all of these factors I came to my meal fully equipped to distract myself from potential awkwardness. Armed with a book, notebook and pen and my laptop, I was fully prepared. However they weren’t fully required.
I instead was made more aware of my surrounding, from the music that the restaurant was playing, to the conversation the other customers were having, I found myself feeling quite content in indulging in the lives of others (finding out that the man on the table opposite me had recently got engaged and was planning a big wedding) was the highlight of my evening.
My contentment soon however turned to boredom and I yearned to tell someone that my pasta was perfectly seasoned and that I hated the music that was being played–James Blunt.
My dinner was short-lived, as I rushed to finish my last bit of wine. I turned down the dessert menu and hurriedly paid for the bill. I took out my phone and gave my friend a call to let her know I was coming round…