Table for One

Lately, I have been dining alone, whether dinner or lunch. Going out has been easier now in Seattle as the city is opening up more and more since the pandemic. When I go into the office, very few people are there so I've been eating lunch alone as well.

And I love it.

Of course, I also love having dinner with companions, but I am surprised how much I don't mind eating alone. I thought I would hate it and fear it, but instead it is interesting. If I sit at the counter, I watch how the staff at the restaurant works. If I sit at a table, I hear other people's conversations floating by. In a loud restaurant, it is hard to hear, but in a quieter place, I can hear everything, whether I want to or not.

Sometimes the conversations are business dinners or meals between work colleagues. The other day at lunch, I witnessed a disastrous first date. Watching people interact in the wild is better than watching television. I'm not kidding, as in "you can't make this up." I would share all of the details of this train-wreck date, but then I would be like Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton, the wallflower gossip who dishes dirt on the rest of the town. But seriously, this guy could use some pointers on what to say and what not to say on a first date. I was curious what his companion thought. It would have been rude to for me to ask her or to offer my opinion, I suppose.

Sometimes, going to dinner alone is like watching television, but other times I get to play a role myself. Last night, Pedro was going to join me for dinner but he was stuck at Alpental after a terrific day of skiing. ("Free refills" is how he later described what it was like skiing while six inches of snow fell in the afternoon.) Even though he couldn't make it, I decided to go to dinner anyhow. 

I got to the restaurant and told the waiter I would be dining alone as Snoqualmie Pass closed and my son was stuck at the mountain. The couple next to me asked about the snow, and we started a nice conversation that floated on and off during the meal. They also have an eighteen year old son, and their family skis and fishes.

A few months ago, my friend Holly from my condo and I went to dinner. There was a guy dining alone next to us, and she offered her opinions on the menu, which then opened the door for conversation. He had grown-up in Seattle, but was now living in California. Before we knew it, the three of us were sharing chocolate mousse for dessert.

I think what I like about eating alone is the adventure. When I go out with friends, the whole experience is somewhat predictable, even if we go to a new place. With friends, I am in a bubble at the restaurant with them, not necessarily connecting to other experiences around. When I am alone, it is me and the venue. Who knows how the evening will turn out?