The Joy of Eating Alone
Aloneness and loneliness are two different things, and I happen to feel both. I enjoy it, because I chose them on my own accord. Another thing I definitely enjoy is eating away the anxiety of whatever is left of my social and study lives, which I love to do in the university’s dining hall. And when I mix these two things together, I gain the dual glories of humankind: Emptiness of the Mind and Fullness of the Stomach.
An activity like that, sadly but obviously, is accompanied by adverse results as well. My loneliness and aloneness, though they may filter my mind of unneeded worrying about relationships and friendships, are also part of the reason for my unheard nocturnal tears. My love for food, on the other hand, gives me exhausting anxiety since I happen to be the unlucky combination of a hypochondriac as well as someone who relies on unhealthy food for joy and rejuvenation. Thirdly, my solitude and gluttony often tend to invite the staring eyes of people around me. Whether they’re pitying or judging me, can they please look away so I can eat my oven-roasted vegetables in peace?
Every once in a while, the sinister side of loneliness suffocates me, and I find myself wishing my friendships were less casual and more serious, so I won’t have to only smile and wave because I don’t know the person well enough to sit and chat during a meal. In other words, I sometimes feel that I would rather know a couple of people too well than everyone not well enough. Despite that, my desire to be alone and unbothered always overcomes the agony that stems from loneliness.
It’s so … chill.
There are many things you don’t have to worry about when eating alone, and the peace of mind that comes along is too beautiful and tranquil to sacrifice for the mere sake of not coming off, even vaguely, as a loser.
When you eat alone, you don’t have to worry about having food stuck in your teeth whenever you force a smile or utter a word. You don’t have to worry about asking a question during the chat and awkwardly waiting for the person to finish chewing on their big bite of food before they answer. You don’t have to worry about judgmental looks the person may give you when you get up for more food, or when you contently push back your half-full plate a little too early. You don’t have to worry about not starting to eat if they’re not there yet, or forcing yourself to overstay because they’re not done eating yet. You don’t have to worry about them bringing along a non-mutual friend, and the annoying awkwardness of trying to get you both to like each other.
In the hectic life of someone slowly approaching adulthood, eating becomes one of the few occasions I sit with utter relaxation and take time for myself. For me nowadays, it is some sort of meditation. I admit that I have taken some serious decisions a couple of times while chewing pensively on my tortilla. In contrast, I’ve also had times where not one thought paid my mind a visit, and I simply focused on getting my daily nutrition so I don’t end up collapsing in my lecture.
So, enough with the pitiful looks
It cannot be wrong to approach a person eating in solitude and asking to keep them company, because you never know whether or not they’re basking in their ‘me’ time. But don’t be surprised when they reject your offer, because some of us truly crave that divine serenity that we only experience a few times a day. Eating, for some, is meant to be done in silence and away from human interactions. We love to savor every bit of our luscious food, and relish in the delight of really feeling the delectable taste as we deliberately crunch and chew.
