I arrived at the hottest Cuban restaurant in Manhattan on a Saturday night, 8pm to be exact. He asks, “Will you be meeting someone?” I say, “Nope.” He tries again, only using different words, “Are you waiting for someone to arrive?” Again, I say no, only this time with a smile. He proceeds to let me know their seating policy is that the party cannot be seated until the full party has arrived. It’s at this point the plot truly thickens, “I’m aware. The party is here. Table for one, please.” His reaction was full on perplexed-mode, and then the comments began, “Oh ok, right this way.” Heading towards the darkest part of the room, the questions continue. “How is someone so tall and beautiful having dinner alone on a Saturday night?”, as if our capability to eat is determined by height and looks. I smiled with a thank you. I was seated at the smallest table against the wall, understandably of course. A few seconds later, another worker approached the table intensely swiping off the extra dinner place settings as if I’d caused an offense. Again, I smiled with a thank you.
This was my second trip to New York in a span of three months—I traveled solo for many reasons, one being just because I love spending time there. From borough to borough, Chicago to LA to New York, I noticed commonalities when it came to singlehood and dating yourself…it’s rare.
In speaking with friends and strangers alike surrounding this topic, it seems as if society has this level of fear when it comes to being alone or being seen alone. It’s as if we’d rather be around people we have no connection with than being inner-connected with ourselves. We’d rather mold ourselves into being who we think others want us to be than truly sitting down to meet our selves. But why? Why are we so afraid of that table for one and more importantly why are we so uncomfortable in being alone with ourselves, our thoughts, truths and creating our moments? Why must we wait on others for us to experience life?