Lunching solo

Last year there was a period of months where I was travelling a lot. When you travel alone, you inevitably have to face the moment when you must eat, and you must eat alone. For some, this might not be a big deal - but for me it was - and is. (My discomfort prompted my husband to send me this pithy comment from The Onion.)

Why do I care? Upon reflection, I think it has to do with leftover anxiety borne of the ruthless hellscape of the middle school lunchroom. Having people to sit with was crucial. Sitting alone was not an option - in fact, if it came down to it, one would prefer to eat lunch hiding in the bathroom. This attention to the lunchroom social scene is an effect, I think, of the highly regimented environment of school in general. In class, we need to sit beside who we sit beside, we need to do group work, we need to exist with everyone else in the room. This situation is beyond the scope of the students' power. But at lunch, there is much power to wield. You can choose who you think is worthy of lunching with you and who deserves to be ignored. Not being seen fit to sit next to for the consumption of a sandwich and a juice box is indictment indeed. The 90 minutes between the end of morning classes and the beginning of the afternoon can seem an eternity.

The sting of such schoolyard snubbing sneaks back into my subconscious when I find myself in a situation where I am alone and I am hungry. How to demonstrate to the world that, despite the evident fact that I am currently eating my lunch alone, I do have friends! I do have people who care about me! I am not a loser! I am eating alone because I want to! Perhaps one brings a laptop, and, typing while eating, attempts to look too busy to even contemplate eating with a friend (of which I have many, all of whom would be more than happy to eat with me). I am always careful to time the last sip of coffee with the words, "cheque please."