Table for one, please

So I did something last night that I've heard everyone should do once in their lifetime. I ate dinner by myself.

Not one of those sitting-in-the-airport-before-a-flight dinners. Not a dinner where I brought a good book. Not a meal ordered from a barstool. But a genuine, takes-reservations-restaurant-that-serves-expensive-food-and-has-white-tablecloths dinner. (I was traveling on business and quite unimpressed with the room service menu.) I ordered a glass of wine, some pasta with shrimp, and then...I sat.

For awhile I wondered what I was going to do there all by myself. If I studied people at other tables, would they think that I was staring at them? If I checked my Blackberry, I might look like one of those people who just got stood up for a date. If I fidgeted, I would look uncomfortable. And dammit, if I went to all the trouble of eating by myself I was sure not going to look uncomfortable.

And then, I realized that my mind was wandering to places that it hadn't in ages. I thought about my life. Old friends. Whether or not we should get a pet. If the bread in my basket was cold because I was eating some other table's leftovers (yep, still paranoid...). Somewhere during this riveting inner dialogue I thought I should start a blog.

I also noticed that, unbelievably, I tasted the food--really tasted it--more than any other meal I can think of in recent memory. (It was great, by the way.) When I left, I felt like I had taken time out of my day to hang out with myself. And I liked it.

I can't say I'll jump at the chance to do this again (after all, part of eating at a nice restaurant is good company) but I'm not averse to the thought. After all, there's nothing wrong with letting your inner selves have a great conversation over a good glass of wine. It sure beats paying for therapy.