Veritable Tantrum

A recent study unveiled that dining alone directly correlates to the rise of unhappiness in America. Dining alone, the study gathers, indicates we solo eaters — that brave brass I’ve proudly joined within my last few years of self-discovery and ever-growing New York confidence — are averse to the modern culture of togetherness, as if that four-word phrase isn’t an oxymoron. The solo eater is one who distrusts. The solo eater is a lone wolf in the forest, hunting for their meal amid a dense undergrowth of fauxdeons with total dedication to solitude.

Nothing could be further from the truth. There is a social imperative to the pursuit of blissful, unchaperoned dining. Loving to eat and drink alone absolutely requires observation of others. It necessitates being a lightning rod of total receptivity, thoroughly commanding your solitary pleasure while witnessing objectively, without any distraction, the absolute batshit nature of how a restaurant works.

For the foodie in a new city, the traveler on a work sojourn, or if your partner’s gone for the weekend and that barstool at that highly coveted restaurant is just too good to pass up, here’s how to make your solo dining experience feel anything but lonely…

EAT AT THE BAR

If it’s comfortable, and you’re not squeezing in between two people spewing dry-aged bone marrow every which way, always eat at the bar.

The bar isn’t where the action is, the bar is the action. Action that you are only required to observe rather than participate in. There have been countless instances where I’ve parked myself on a high top, gazed longingly skyward at the tiers and tiers of glowing bottles for minutes on end, and felt totally comfortable. You can drift off into a playful, zen-like maze of your own perverse design, and most bartenders love when you notice things other patrons don’t. Any coquettish break in their routine of pouring thyme-infused gimlets over and over will surely be rewarded with fun repartee — and, if you’re lucky, the beloved but elusive buy back.

Not to mention that, every once in a while, they’ll grab off the top shelf one of those dusty glowing bottles that’s captivated your interest during your apéritif, offering you — the lone drinker full of vim and vigor — the opportunity to inquire as to what they’re making with such a lurid potion. Engage with that interesting moment. Who knows, you might learn something.

WATCH, WATCH, WATCH

Let’s face it: other people are a lot. The energy you devote to listening to others, to genuinely absorbing their emotions, to participating in a grand empathy toward all, is undoubtedly finite. The introvert-extrovert spectrum is a wide berth, but at the end of the day, people can get in the way of objectively seeing your surroundings.

Observe the things you can’t with other people. The dining experience opens up a wealth of exceptional visual details that comes to light when you’re alone: a bartender pouring three jiggers of Ketel rather than two for that grey-haired thespian at the bar who’s clearly a years-long regular; a waiter acutely observing that marketing exec removing her mawed Trident gum, only to graciously surprise her with that perfectly timed napkin before she indulges in steak tartare.

The restauranting public of this city — a hopelessly disparate throng of influencers, finance bros, alcoholics, dreamers, dipshits, and ruinous bon vivants — are blissfully unaware of how their idiosyncratic eating habits are exposed to our eyes. Behold them with the astuteness of a scientist. You’ve got nothing but time on your hands.

Which brings me to…

TAKE YOUR SWEET TIME

Do not rush yourself with anything, ever. Like me, I acknowledge you’re a sad sack who might want to overcompensate with niceness and speed things up as you run out of NYT Games to play on your phone.

Resist that urge. Re-read the menu, then read it again. If you think you’re set on what you want, take even more time. Wait, then wait some more. You, the bar patron, are not by any means subject to the dreaded “turnover” of tables that maître d’s lose sleep over while their alcoholic owners sweat the bottom line.

Savor your pre-app drink. Relish the victory of dragging your anxious mortal coil atop that barstool. You might not have earned it like those Harvard Chaunceys with “real” reservations, but earning it doesn’t matter here. You’ve gamed the system by being the observant, beautiful rapscallion that you are. Revel in that luxury with a gregarious gulp of your bacon-washed old fashioned.

Most people are terrified to eat alone. You earned this on your own terms, and you’ve earned it by being present. Fill out that hightop. Remain in a constant state of absorption. A million stimuli are luring you in at all times, from the vermouth on your tongue to the warm Edison bulb haloing over your head. Enjoy them all, but don’t put your mind out of the equation either. Serendipitous barroom banter is the purest dopamine delivery available on two feet. Why laugh at that overly milky espresso martini if you can’t share that laugh with another lone diner thinking the same thing?

Dine alone, but don’t dine lonely. There’s a huge difference.