Take the plunge...dine alone

When I ate out by myself for the first time, I realised the only person with the problem had been me

Have you ever eaten in a restaurant on your own? I know what you’re thinking. ‘Of course I haven’t’. ‘What a ridiculous question’. ‘I can’t think of anything worse’.

Dining alone is very much taboo. It’s something that’s not really socially acceptable. I can see you now, shivering at the sheer thought of sitting in the corner on your own, feeling like Billy No Mates, thinking everyone is looking at you. I used to feel exactly the same. 

That was until a week ago, when I decided it was time to be brave. I dined out alone. I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t nerve-wracking, because it was. In fact it was damn scary. But I did it. And I’m so glad I did.

It’s not like I don’t have the confidence to go out alone. I do. I regularly attend the theatre on my own, but that’s different. You don’t necessarily go to the theatre to socialise. There’s the initial humiliation of walking into the auditorium and showing your solitary ticket to the usher on the door, then sitting down on your own in the middle of an otherwise empty row of seats. Once you’re settled in, however, you can bury your head in a programme for a few minutes until the show starts. Then, as soon as the curtain goes up, everybody is focused on what’s on stage; who you’re with becomes irrelevant. You can get through the twenty minute interval with a bag of chocolates that are really intended for sharing or a tub of the extortionately over-priced ice cream that’s sold in-house. Then, when it’s over, you can make a swift exit. You’ve enjoyed the show, being on your own hasn’t really hampered your night. But when you’re eating out, socialising is as big a part of the experience as the food itself. Surely you’re going to look sad, lonely and desperate?

On this particular Friday evening, I had to pick up a ticket from the box office at the Manchester Opera House by 6.30pm. The show didn’t start for another hour. What was I to do? That was too long for me to hang around in the bar with no pals. So there was only one thing for it. I was going to do the one thing I’d always been afraid of: I’d go and have my tea. On my own.  

I walked down the road to the Great Northern Warehouse, home to one of my favourite eateries, Home Sweet Home. My heart raced as I gingerly approached the door. The bar area was packed with colleagues enjoying post-work, pre-weekend drinks. Great, I thought, a welcoming walk of shame. As I approached the front-of-house greeter, it was time to utter the dreaded words: ‘Table for one please’. If you ever find yourself in this situation, be confident when you say this. Don’t do what I did and let them know you’re aware of feeling lonely and pathetic. The words that came out of my mouth were: ‘Just one, if you can, please’. If you can? What was I expecting? For them to turn round and say: ‘Oh no, solitary diners aren’t allowed in here, please make your way back through the bustling bar and we’ll have a good laugh at you.’ How embarrassingly ridiculous.

I was shown to a table, where I consciously made the decision to sit facing in the direction where there were the fewest number of people. It made logical sense: if people are going to look at me, there are fewer people for me to notice this way.

I buried my head in the menu. It didn’t take long for me to decide what I wanted, but of course I continued to read. I absorbed the description of every single dish on the menu. When the waitress came to take my order, she actually treated me like a normal human being. Imagine that.

Once I’d ordered, I panicked about what I was going to do next. Do I just sit here and stare into space? Out came my phone. Ah, Home Sweet Home have free WiFi. It’s like they knew I was coming. I could feel my awkwardness drifting away. I started to relax.

My food came really quickly. I’m not sure if it’s kudos to the Great Northern version of Home Sweet Home for exceptional service or if they just felt sorry for me and told the chef to get a move on. Either way, I was very grateful. If you’re interested, I had the Pulled Pork Pile Up. I figured I should probably tell you that, given that I normally write about what I’m eating as opposed to feeling like a misfit while I’m eating it. It consisted of juicy, slow-cooked pork shoulder heaped on top of crispy sweet potato fries, with barbecue sauce, pico de gallo, jalapenos and picked onions, with lettuce and coleslaw on the side. It was delicious.

Pulled Pork Pile Up

Now here’s the thing. Being on my own meant that I was even limited when it came to food choices. Burgers, sandwiches et al require fries to accompany them (it’s the law). But you have to order them separately, which generally means it’s the kind of portion that is not acceptable to be eaten by one person. I figured that the Pulled Pork Pile Up was a safer option, given that the fries were a part of it. Who knew ordering from a menu when alone could be so convoluted? Don’t let it put you off, though.

Once I was eating, nothing else mattered. I was focused entirely on what was on the plate in front of me. I didn’t even feel the need to pick up my phone. To be completely frank, it was quite nice to have no distractions. It was just me and my food. So settled into my solitary dining experience I became that I even hung around for dessert. Well, a trip to Home Sweet Home wouldn’t be complete without it. I had a slice of carrot cake covered in disco frosting and topped with a white chocolate wheel. 

Carrot Cake with disco frosting

The sponge was a little dry - not the best carrot cake I’ve ever tasted - though the deliciously sweet, but not too sickly cream cheese frosting made up for this. It may not have been my favourite Home Sweet Home gateaux, but it was perfectly satisfying all the same.

Choosing my cake, however, was slightly awkward. ‘Pop over to the cake counter and have a look at the range we have on offer’, my waitress told me when she brought me the dessert menu. This isn’t normally a problem, except, on my own, how do I confirm that I’m not getting up and trying escape, without paying? As you’ll have gathered by now, I was over-thinking everything.

Just over an hour later, I was leaving Home Sweet Home, feeling content and much more confident. I’d done it. I had dined out alone for the first time. People may have looked and thought it was strange, but how would I know if they had? I was blissfully unaware. Believe it or not, there was somebody else in there on their own. Not just me. I didn’t judge them. They probably weren’t judging me. My irrational worry of looking like a misfit has dwindled slightly. The next time I do it, it’ll be even easier. And the third time, well, it’ll be a doddle.

Next time you’re out shopping and you fancy a bit of lunch, don’t go hungry just because you’ve got nobody to eat with. Don’t settle for scoffing a dry sandwich from the closest coffee shop while you’re on the go. Go into a restaurant, sit down and have a meal. Trust me, it’s really not that bad.

Go on, boost your confidence. Forget about what everybody else thinks. If you want to do it, do it. Take the plunge. Dine alone.