Solo

For anyone who's eaten alone:

Three square meals a day. And I eat everyone of them alone. Snacks too. I hate eating alone, but I do so constantly. Self-exiled half way around the globe, I eat all of my meals in solitude. Most nights, I come home after work, turn on my trusty laptop and toast up some honey and peanut butter or fry up some frozen mandu for my square meal. If I am lazy, I’ll stop by for some mandu or kimbap to go. I eat in my cave. Occasionally, when cabin fever sets in I’m forced to strike out and brave the wilderness of dining out alone.

I hate eating out or as I romantically call it “taking my book out to dinner“. Blind date or dating a book, it’s a toss up which is worse. Taking your “date” out is painful. You don’t have to dress up or make small talk, because there is no one to impress or talk to. Like all “dates” first comes selection, usually out of whatever is laying around or if you’re lucky you go out and pick up a brand new sparkling “date”. Chances are you’ll end up picking up something you can splatter kimchee or soup on, but nothing too trashy. So after “selection,” you pick out a restaurant. Not just any old restaurant will do. No, you have to pick one full enough to guarantee good food, because if you don’t eat out often every meal counts. At the same time you want someplace empty enough, so you don’t feel like an ass for taking up a table for two when it’s just one plus book. Then there‘s the actual meal. Where you sit with your book as a shield against those casual glances which shout, “Oh, look at her she’s all alone. How sad.” You order quickly, no appetizer just a main course, please. As time ticks by, shield in hand you wait for your food so you can scarf it down before bolting so some normal, socially adjusted person with friends can use the table. Food arrives, one hand holding your shield while the other one grasps the eating utensil as you begin shoveling your one square meal a week quickly down your mouth. The sound of chewing breaks the silence around your table as you masticate your food. Escape is now in sight. Once satisfied all you have to do is wait for the check and you’re home free. The check comes, you tip big to apologize for taking up valuable space and leave quickly. As you burst through the door, book in hand you’re free until next week, or maybe the week after. And you try not to think too much about how it used to be.