Solo
The Met, April 7th
Right in the middle of this week's poverty awareness campaign was Wednesday. It was a fairly humpy hump day. For one, I woke up feeling powerfully weak. My calorie count had been incredibly low for forty-eight hours so it wasn't much of a surprise, but it still made for a rough morning. Then I went to lunch. As in, out to lunch.
While the others in my group worked on platters of thick steak fries and hot dishes straight out of the oven, I tore open my chilled plastic container of cold pasta. As I rolled a piece of boiled carrot around in my mouth, earnestly hoping to taste some iota of flavor (it turns out that eating within the extreme poverty budget is not just unhealthy and unvaried, but bland, too), I looked to my right to see three men at the bar. There they were, all by their lonesome, drinking cold beers, each dining alone. Their expressions were blank. They looked only straight ahead, making eye contact with no one. I didn't know that that sort of thing really happened. At least not in the middle of the day. Beers in hands, men dining solo at bars, that is. The three of them looked so sad. Lonely.
When I'm out and about solo, I wonder if I look as sad as these guys did. Before I started pinching pennies with this job, I used to go out and have a meal alone on occasion. On a Saturday, or a Sunday, or a holiday when the office was closed. Or just because. I had no qualms about it. I used to do it in Philly. New York was even better because I wouldn't run into people. In fact, I rather relished those dates. I'd bring along something to read. I'd take my time. The waiters would always smile an extra smile. It was...good.
Seeing those men yesterday made me reconsider how I might appear to the outside world. To a great extent, it doesn't matter, but I'm still curious. I think strangers might pity people, especially women, who go solo in public places where there's usually socializing to be done. Hmm.
When I was working full time I would sometimes go out to lunch by myself and take a book. It always sort of felt like a treat, probably because I'm more of an introvert.
ReplyDeleteAnd now that I have two little kids, going any where by myself really does feel like a treat :)
I'm such a mixed bag on the whole introvert/extrovert thing. On first impression, I'm never the introvert. When you get to know me, I still engage like an extrovert. But at the same time, I'm guarded and very private. I don't mean to throw people off by it; it's just who I am.
DeleteThose guys at the bar, had they been reading or watching the tv above them or just engaging in something, I don't think they'd have seemed so sad. It was the blank looks on their faces drinking beers at 1 in the afternoon. All alone! Who does that?! They just didn't seem to be content.
loved this post. just wanted to say that. I thought of the expression 'you never know what battle someone is fighting' when you watched the men at the bar. did the market dive, did their wife leave, did they have a situation going on that made them droop a bit mid-day and 'check out'.
ReplyDeleteno better birdseye view on the human race than in the thick of the city...
You're absolutely right that I'll never know. And therein lies the lure of existing in this urban space; that you can be however you want any time of day. While someone might wonder a thought or two about you, they will still, most likely, leave you be. There is an odd comfort in that.
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