One of the saddest things I witness is people eating alone.
Young, old... okay, especially old... but really, anyone eating alone just tears my heart right out and allows me to bid adieu to my appetite. I feel so bad that I want to stroll right up and sit across from the person, but I won't because society tells me that's creepy.
I might ask about the wispy haired man in the corner's favorite grandchild and hear how she got top marks on her latest Economics exam. But this would be wishful thinking on his part: in actuality, he won't have spoken to his granddaughter in years because of a fault line in the family tree that had nothing to do with him.
Maybe Grandpa missed her so much he started fabricating stories about her, like I am right now about a man I've never met. But I'm sure I've seen him. He's one of the souls that eats alone, appearing genuine and kind yet with the potential to be a sociopath or some other form of deviant. For me, eating alone sets my nerves on fire and injects angry bubbles into my tummy. I get so worked up wondering what people think of me that I can't really enjoy my food. Oh my god, she's adorable. Look at her cute friends. I better stare at my food or else she'll think I'm a creeper. There's no way I can speak.
And even when I'm not by myself, I find myself tuning out of the conversation of my table-mates so I can observe what others are up to. What are they eating? Do they look happy? Why did they choose this school? Where are they going after they're done with dinner?
In a way I suppose these questions are exciting. It's wondrous knowing that I could actually ask these things and not be looked at as a total weirdo - or at least that's what I think. I tell some people I think this and they go, "You're such a writer!" but I think it just makes me a thinker. I think, I think, I think. Sometimes too much. Take, for instance, this blog. I started out my entry yesterday about kettle chips and ended up talking about the time I drove eight hours to meet someone off Myspace.
But that's what I love about blogs, college, and life. It's so spontaneous. Sometimes it's only that way if we make it so, but the ability is fleeting. When we catch it, maybe we won't all end up eating alone.
I used to feel that way too. Every time I saw someone sitting alone at lunch I would yearn to sit next to them and tell them that at least one person cares, and once in a while I would get the courage to do so. I think this stemmed from my infatuation with the male lead in my school's production of You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown.
ReplyDeleteBut from those experiences, and my own experiences, I realize that this is a fundamentally narcissistic impulse. Often the people I broached minded that a complete stranger came to talk to them just when they were eating, and not only because of the creepy factor. Nowadays I eat most of my lunches alone, and I understand. I eat alone because it's one of the few times in the day where I have time to reflect and think and read and otherwise take care of myself spiritually. Sure, sometimes people eat alone because they really are alone, but many times it's the choice of the introvert. You, and I, want to help, but we "help" by bestowing our gregarious and "friendly" selves onto their table and assuming that everyone needs to be talked to all the time. Like we're giving them a gift they should appreciate. Which we don't.
I'm not trying to criticize you - just offering a different perspective.