Table for one

No, really.

In London a few years ago, I went for dinner at Wagamama, a trendy Asian fusion restaurant. I like the name (and the food) because it translates essentially to "selfish" or "self-indulgent" in English. The food is great but more importantly, that was entirely my plan.

I was selfishly excited to take myself out.

When I travel, I love nothing more than putting on some nice clothes and going on a date.

Alone.

I prefer a table, but will take the bar in a pinch. I ask that they remove any other table settings and will order a drink to start as I consider the menu. When the server comes, they are sometimes surprised when I order multiple courses and ask that they take their time delivering them because, baby, this is me time on high.

I don't really call them baby.

But I do hear your anxiety welling up.

I admit, it wasn't always like this. Having traveled a lot for work for many years, this was definitely a learning curve spawned out of necessity and a desire to enjoy some of the little perks of business travel, like getting to enjoy nice restaurants in strange cities.

Often I'd research the most popular places where people swear you can't get in for months and make it a goal to dine at at least one of the top 3 in town.

When I first found myself entering a restaurant that wasn't in my hotel to eat, because let's face it, eating alone in a hotel is pretty common, I imagined that everyone from the hostess to the waiter to every other diner must be staring at me and judging.

What a loser.

A seasoned host or server will work hard to make you feel comfortable dining alone, but I can also say there are definitely times you need to break through any pity they come at you with - that perhaps you were stood up or lonely - and reassure them that this is intentional.

I want to be alone.

And eat.

Of course, once seated, you'll casually scan the restaurant to note if there are other solo diners. Often, this is the sign of a great restaurant. People comfortable enough or eager enough to eat here alone speaks volumes about the food and the service. If you happen to spy any and make eye contact, a gentle nod is enough to say, "I see you, you self-indulgent devil, you."

Not unlike any other learned skill, as you flex the muscles, the confidence grows. So bringing your phone or your book as props becomes more of a mood thing over a necessity thing. Same goes for choosing a bar or counter seat. The caveat here is that I have gotten into restaurants with months-long reservation wait lists as a walk-in by offering to sit alone at the bar.

Still creepy?

I swear, you'll love it if you keep at it. And, as you level up, you'll also notice how the server relaxes more when they are at your table, over anyone else's, willing to give up the gossip on what's going on at their other tables. Anniversary on table 12, couple fighting on 15, wants it with ketchup on 18. They morph into your temporary dining companion. They'll drop the façade if given the chance, often adding more colour to your night.

And because dining alone is, at its foundation, one of the best people-watching and eavesdropping opportunities available, as an observer of things, what's not to love about it? Despite how you may have felt walking in, you become essentially invisible once settled. People barely notice you. They're all wrapped up in their own experience] which may not be so great once you start to observe. I can't count the number of couples I've seen seated together, but entirely alone in their evening, scrolling their phones or looking around the place. Not in "comfortable silence" - I'll write about that some other time because that's different. No, many are there just to be there, but they aren't there. Y’know?

Who's the loser now?

Meanwhile, there you are, the entire bread basket to yourself, about to indulge with a generous dollop of the butter hand-churned by nuns.

Why yes, I will have another glass of wine. Thank you.

Dining alone is not the same as eating alone. That happens regularly for all of us. From cafeterias to food courts to standing in the kitchen over a bag of taco chips. It's not special. It's functional. Fast. For survival.

Dining alone is luxurious, even if the restaurant isn't. It's experiential. Most of all, it's intentional. You'll know you've reached a comfort level with it when you order an appetizer AND a dessert.

You are here. No fear. Get used to it.

The thing about dining alone that I love, and why I particularly enjoy it when traveling, is that it spurs something in your brain to make it a core memory. The novelty of it makes your brain lock it away to enjoy again later. I confess to having eaten countless meals at restaurants with people I love that I barely remember, if at all. But the ones where I went intentionally alone? Those I remember almost down to the cutlery.

Maybe it's the instinctual fear? Of being away from the herd alone…

If you ever try this at home, and by that I mean in your hometown, that fear of being noticed escalates to a fear of being recognized. This isn't you eating alone because you have to anymore. This is you doing this because you want to.

And that…is just weird.

The worst is when someone sees you and makes a beeline to your table, asking "What are you doing?" "Are you waiting for someone?"

"No, Chad, I'm here to order what I want, not share the bread, have that second glass of wine, and eat all of my dessert myself. How about you?"

It's hardest when they have to leave you alone again because some people just don't get it. They can make it feel awkward.

While definitely indulgent, I think solo dining ironically makes you a better dining companion in the end. It gives you the space to feel the natural pace of a meal as well as to notice what you really enjoy about the experience of dining on food made and delivered just for you. You start to notice little things about the food or the restaurant or the service that may become things you bring up when eating with others, and that will help solidify some great memories for everyone.

If you can bear to be alone with your thoughts while also being among people, I believe you are achieving a level of mindfulness that benefits your life in a hundred little ways. It's a set of skills that translate beyond just being self-indulgent. So why not be a little more wagamama?

You deserve it.