I must confess that I have been dining alone for years…but it wasn’t until recently that I’ve become comfortable with it. In fact…dare I say it? I prefer to dine alone.
When I first moved to LA, I couldn’t do anything solo, which was a problem since I didn’t know a single soul there. So it shouldn’t be surprising that I spent a lot of time in my apartment by myself…and my two cats. I was 21 and terrified of the world.
Flash-forward to 31.
I’m living in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia and just treated myself to a surf and turf dinner tonight at the local steakhouse…alone. And it was glorious.
I’ll admit that this bucket list item was a lifetime in the making. And who I am now is so far removed that I don’t recognize that shy, unconfident girl from a decade ago. I wish I could tell her that it gets better. That eventually she’ll love her own company and herself.
…but she probably wouldn’t believe that one day she’d be alone at dinner halfway around the world…and wouldn’t want it any other way.