Picture this: It's 1998 and I am spending my first summer in Cincinnati. It's August and hot as hell. I am job hunting so I have a lot of time on my hands and not much to do. I decide to try to find the mall (I wasn't exactly sure where it was because Charlene always drove) to do some window shopping. I'm pretty sure I remember how to find it....I don't. After about 40 minutes of driving to a mall which should have only taken me about 10 minutes to find, I finally arrive. It feels a little weird to be at the mall by myself (see day 7), but I am doing okay. Until I get hungry. Problem 1: I DON'T eat alone. Problem 2: I don't enter food courts and choose tables. I always feel like the entire food court is staring at me and waiting for me to make a fool of myself. What if I can't find a table? What if I am heading to a table at the same time someone else is and I end up standing there with nowhere to sit? WHAT IF I TRIP?! So I had managed to avoid all of these scenarios by always going to food courts with someone else and making sure they ordered their food first so they would be responsible for picking the table. This has worked for me. So today I have a dilemma. Do I suck it up and get food and find a table? Do I not eat (which my grumbling stomach tells me is NOT an option)? Solution: get the food to go and eat in my car. Seems like a perfect solution to me.
So I get my Chick-fil-a and head to the parking lot. I get to my car and decide to move it to the back of the parking lot so no one sees me eating in my car like a freak. As I get to the deserted end of the lot, I realize that I am on E. REALLY on E. Like below the E. Did I mention it is hot as hell? There is no way I can eat in this hot-ass car with no AC but if keep the car running I risk running out of gas. See, at this point a normal person would have gone back inside to eat in the food court (scratch that, a normal person would never have found herself in this situation). Going back in is not an option, so I keep the car running, air blasting, and try to eat as fast as humanly possible.
In what seems like two minutes, I have devoured my 4 piece chicken strip meal and fries and I am ready to go. As indigestion starts to set in, I put the car in reverse and start to back out of my parking space. Why am I going so slowly? Why am I now not moving at all? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
My paranoia has now landed me in the far end of the mall parking lot with NO GAS in 95degree weather. The sweat is starting already.....so you know where this is going. I had to walk, in the ridiculous heat, to get gas. The irony of having to walk to get gas and being stared at while doing it is not lost on me.
But now you understand how deep-seated this issue really is. It has gotten better over the years. I have conquered the food court. I have even eaten breakfast and lunch out alone. But dinner...dinner is a whole different animal. First you have the humiliation of telling the hostess that you would just like a table for one. You might as well be wearing a sign that says "I suck so much that I can't even get someone to go to dinner with me". Then you are at the table. Alone. What do you do until your food comes? Nothing. And everyone else is watching you sit and do nothing. You can see why I was not in a rush to experience this.
But, in the spirit of the 35 days to 35 challenge, I decided to take myself to dinner. If I was going to do this, the restaurant would have to be some place that I love; some place where the food makes me giggle it's so good. There was only one choice. Red Lobster here I come.
So, after a hellish pilates class, I head for my date with myself. I hadn't really eaten anything all day, and after killing myself for the last hour on the reformer, I was so hungry I was shaking. This might not be the best time to eat alone. I am cranky when I am this hungry. Very cranky. But the hunger pains are doing a great job of quieting the anxiety that is building, so maybe this is a good thing. The parking lot isn't too full and I find a spot close to the door. That's a good sign, maybe it won't be too crowded. The anxiety hits me like a brick as I walk to the hostess desk. The hostess gives me a pleasant smile and says, "Hi. Will there be two of you". And all I can think is, "Bitch, do you see anybody else standing here?"
"No", I say, "just me".
I could swear she raises her eyebrows at the other girl at the hostess desk but maybe I imagined that. As she is gathering my menu, I remember to say "Can I have a booth please?" I'll be damned if I eat alone AND sit in the middle of the freakin room for all to see.
She leads me to a booth close to one of the TV's and I get comfortable. The table is set for four people and as she tells me about the fish of the day, she takes away the other three place settings. Wow, the table looks really empty. I look around and see that there is a table of six next to me. Again, I could swear they are staring at me with pity in their eyes, but they may just be the paranoia talking. I quickly peruse the menu so I can be ready to order as soon as the waitress comes. It seems like ten years before I ever see her, but finally the waitress approaches and she can barely say hello before I say "Wine. I need wine please."
Another ten years goes by before the wine arrives. I have exhausted all of my options to look like I am enjoying myself: I've checked email on my phone, sent about ten text messages, watched ESPN news until it started repeating and my food still isn't here. I check my watch, knowing it has to have been at least twenty minutes since I ordered. It's been six minutes. Really. SIX MINUTES. I'm drowning here so I decide it is time to break out my life raft and I dig in my purse for my book. I wrestled with the idea of bringing a book because I think it's cheating a little, but I couldn't bring myself to leave the house without a safety net.
I try to lose myself in the wonderful world of Jane Green and before I know it, my crab legs arrive at the table. I attack my plate with no mercy, partly because I am famished but also because I am dying to get out of here. While I am eating, two managers and three different serves walked by and asked if I was doing okay and if I needed anything else. The crazy in me thinks that they were in the back discussing how sad it is to see someone friendless and alone at dinner so they decided to do pity walk-bys so I would have someone to talk to. The reality is there was practically no one in dining room and they were probably bored as hell.
I polish off the rest of the crab legs and silently thank God that my waitress had already left the check at my table. As soon as I pull my credit card out, she appears to take the check. Maybe she is a fellow hater of eating alone and can sense my discomfort. Whatever the case, I appreciate her helping me end this torture that much faster.
Walking to the car, relief washes over me. I survived my solo dinner in one piece and, honestly it wasn't that bad. Not that I'll be doing it again anytime soon, but at least I know I can do it. But only if the food is really, REALLY good.
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