“Table for one” always raises the an eyebrow and prompts brilliant comments such as tonight’s, “for one?!” The anxiety in the hostess’s voice was almost enough to give me anxiety, but knowing a table for one earns as many Open Table points as a table for twenty made my heart (and belly) full.
My girlfriend in a long distance situation often tackles this stupid topic with me. Why would we give up a great resto in a fun city just because the diaries of others are full when ours aren’t? I admit I’m happy to have her as a partner in crime these days, I recall the first time I made myself attempt this in Miami. I opted for a three course, white table cloth spot I’d been dying to try. I got dressed and headed out, book in tow. The owner couldn’t believe I was alone and said he could never do that. Helpful. We ended up chatting a bit, me practicing my French, he not laughing, and I ended up with a few glasses of wine on the house and a delicious dulce de Leche Mille feuille. I barely read my book, but I’m almost certain I enjoyed my food more.
It’s not sad (as mum thinks), it’s satisfying. If you can’t enjoy brain space with yours and maybe a good book, than who? So tonight, jonsing for a certain something (and agreement to self to clean the apartment and do laundry after a good meal) here we go again. Next month is slow in my diary for engagements so I’m going to cut out carbs and alcohol and then book a tropical holiday. Better enjoy the date for one while it’s still May. Promises to yourself really are the best. xoxo