Eating alone, eating solo

The first time I ate in a restaurant alone, I was 25 years old. It was an exercise that I was putting myself through, because I thought it would be “good” for me. Following the instructions of magazine writers everywhere, I had taken along a book, but it quickly became an outlet for my nervous tension.

Look at that girl, I imagined the other patrons saying, So sad that doesn’t she have any friends! To quell my shame and discomfort, I slapped it on the table immediately and proceeded to turn the pages loudly and make exaggerated motions of interest to show how deeply absorbing it all was. Nodding. Underlining. Sighing.

Oh, yes, I wanted to shout out. I’m important and have important things to read over here! It’s okay if I’m alone!

I don’t know how I managed to choke down my millet pie.

This memory returned to me a few months ago while eating al fresco on a warm summer evening in Turin, Italy. I was lazily browsing through a copy of the New Yorker as I enjoyed the Piemontese fare. Pasta di gragnano in a spicy tomato sauce with crumbled boar sausage, a half-litre of barbera red and for dessert, two chocolates – each no bigger than my thumbnail – flavoured with local hazelnuts and coffee. I looked up once to help some American tourists order, but I was otherwise happy to let the residual heat of the day and the wine make the magazine page increasingly fuzzy.

The difference between these two experiences is the difference between eating alone and eating solo. And this shift was not caused by the beauty of Turin or the accumulated effects of a well-deserved vacation. Instead, it came from an internal shift – or rather, a gradual shift in how I perceive this mad, tilting reality of ours.

I was not alone at that table in Turin. There may have been only one person sitting at my table, but I was not alone or lonely. I was surrounded by food and other people enjoying a similar experience. Even if someone at another table was judging me for eating alone – who cares? Chances are, they weren’t enjoying the moment as much as I was – and were probably feeling very much alone.