Reservations About a Table For One

One thing I absolutely loathe is eating alone in a restaurant.  I don’t know why, but it’s an extremely uneasy experience for me and I rarely do it.  I’d zipline across a raging river before I’d eat an enchilada without a dinner date.  And, seriously, I’ve sailed across a gorge in Puerto Vallarta hanging only by a thin cable, but, until this week, I can’t remember the last time I went to a restaurant by myself.

I wouldn’t call my dread of solo dining a phobia.  That’s too strong of a word.  Eating alone in a restaurant does not reduce me to tears, cause me to perspire, or induce hyperventilation, but it is an uncomfortable scenario in my world.  And it’s not even an inability to be by myself.  Sometimes I rather relish spending time alone.  It’s just being alone in a restaurant that I severely dislike.

So one day this week, with great hesitation, I decided to go to breakfast by myself.  I had a hearing and finished up a little early, I was hungry, and I needed some quiet time to review a document for work.  While it took some convincing for me to go to a restaurant alone, I was up for the challenge.

I parked my car, grabbed my work bag, and confidently headed into one of my favorite haunts, La Duni.  This was going to be fine.  In no time flat, I would have a latte the size of a small swimming pool in front of me and I would soon forget that I didn’t have a companion for breakfast.  The hostess greeted me at the door and promptly deflated me.  She said, “Are you dining alone?”  Shudder.  I sensed a judgmental tone in her voice, I just know it!

Not to be deterred, I said, “Yes, it’s just me.”  Who did she think she was judging me for breaking fast by myself?  It’s not like I need someone there to spoon feed me or something.  She grabbed a menu and led me over to a small table.  I sat down and looked around to make sure there wasn’t a spotlight on this poor woman sitting ALL ALONE.  So far, so good.  Then the waitress came up and her first words were, “Oh, are you waiting for someone?”  Shudder.  Why is La Duni employing such a bunch of hypercritical, judgmental women? 

When I relate these stories to my husband, he’s dumbfounded that it’s such a big issue for me to eat by myself in a restaurant.  Sometimes when I am out-of-town or have my own plans, my husband has no qualms about going to a nice dinner by himself.  He not only goes and has a full-blown meal all alone, but he claims he kind of enjoys it.  When I told him about my “big adventure” on Thursday, he said he was proud of me.  I know he’s proud of me for a lot of things, but eating alone should not be one of them.  I even had a friend tell me, “Bravo!”  These comments have made it crystal clear to me that I just need to get over it.

So I’ve made the decision in 2011 I will conquer this fear.  Several friends of mine have suggested that I start simple and go to a restaurant and eat at the bar by myself.  To me that’s cheating, because I have absolutely no trouble striking up a conversation with strangers.  In my opinion, it’s also cheating to take along a book or my cell phone. If I am going to conquer this fear, I need to face it head on.  No dipping my toe into the shallow end; I need to do a swan dive into a five-star meal sans accompaniment.

So, while normally seeking out-of-the-ordinary adventure, in 2011 one of my big adventures will be to eat a fancy dinner alone.  This may seem minor to you, but it’s going to be a big challenge for me.  And, if there’s anyone out there trying to conquer this same fear, please feel free to join me for dinner.  We can get side-by-side tables for one.  Bon Appetit!