Dinner for One, Please.

There's an art to dining alone - I noticed that while in New York.

I say there's an art because not all people are comfortable with the idea. I know I wasn't. When a restaurant is filled with not only people but also loud bantering among good friends and exchanges of ideas fueled by glasses of disinhibition, the sight of one person sitting alone at the bar is kind of off-putting. Being that person may be nerve-racking.

Such a simple act requires a great deal of confidence. All those moments of waiting and in between waiting. I could only check my email so many times. I liked filling up my journal while eating, but there were only so many thoughts I could pen onto paper.

As it became a norm, the feeling of unease wore away. The bar then became the communal table, and conversation flowed with such simplicity. I think those are the moments I remember most clearly. Honest conversations without inhibition because the person in front of you exists only until you both part on your perspective paths.  Those are the moments I will cherish in my memory until it withers.

That was my New York.