All Alone

Love is our destiny. We do not find the meaning of life
by ourselves alone—we find it with another.
—Thomas Merton

I did some things a few weekends back that I’ve never done before. Now, now, before you get any ideas, let me tell you what I did:

• One: I went to Emily’s wedding. (Of course, I’ve been to weddings before, but never Emily’s, as she’d never had one.)
• Two: I went to a wedding alone. (Which just made me realize I need someone to carry my keys.)
• Three: I hugged a man I just met—twice. (Ok, I’ve probably done that before.)
• Four: I went to a restaurant by myself. (And I didn’t like it. But not for the reasons you might think.)

Did I really just say I’d never been to a restaurant by myself? Yes. Crazy but true. I’m thirty-something, and until that weekend I’d never had occasion to sit in a restaurant by myself. Generally if I’m by myself, I figure I can just as easily be by myself at home. And since I like being at home, that’s usually what I do. But this day was different. Home wasn’t an option.

It was all due to Emily’s wedding. I knew I’d have some time to kill between the wedding and the reception—not enough time to make the drive back home, but enough that browsing Target wasn’t going to cut it. So, I made a plan. I would grab dinner and take my laptop along so I could get some work in before heading to Emily’s reception. It was a good plan. And it worked out well. I did get dinner (at Panda Express) and I did take my laptop, and I did get a little work done. But here’s the thing—between the time I got my food and the time I finished eating and opened my laptop, I did not enjoy myself. Not for the reasons you might think. I didn’t feel awkward, or uncomfortable or singularly single at all. It was just boring. There was no one to talk to. No one to engage with. Sure, I could people watch, and even eavesdrop a little. But really what’s the fun of that when there’s no one to share your observations with or give knowing glances to? And really, sometimes being “alone with your own thoughts” is overrated, and down-right dangerous! Case in point, my first reaction to a young woman clad in very short shorts was, well, not kind. And then I was faced with contemplating whether I was becoming one of those women. You know the kind—those women who are convinced that anyone younger or prettier or whatever-er than them are at best idiots and at worst…something else! It was not a pleasant inner dialogue.

So, yes. It’s true. I don’t like going out by myself. It’s just not an enjoyable use of my time. If I’m going to be by myself, I’d rather be at home. At least there I can rely on the pseudo interaction of email and Facebook and blog comments to feel connected to the world!