Act 19: Celebrate a Holiday All By Myself

The beginning of the year provides a powerful one-two punch for single people.  First, there is New Year's Eve.  It's the holiday that focuses more on friends than family - and we are led to believe that everyone is attending swanky and awesome parties to celebrate the beginning of the next year of our lives.  This night is meant to stand for something.  New Year's Eve is supposed to set the tone for the coming year.  And there's the whole business of the kiss at midnight.  All well and good when you're settled into a lovely relationship, but fraught with peril if you are not.

Then, barely a month later, there is Valentine's Day - the holiday that is meant to celebrate love.  If you're not settled, that too can be a nightmare.  And so it was that I found myself on both these holidays all by my lonesome.  In the past, I would have frantically put together some sort of gathering of my friends, just to keep from being alone.  But not this year.  This year, I was set on experiencing both these holidays on my own.

New Year's Eve I kept it very low key.  I spent the day catching up with an old, dear friend and her family.  It was a lovely way to kick off the new year and did much to recharge my emotional batteries.  That night, though I was invited to a party, I opted to stay in.  I took a bubble bath, did some writing, and then stayed up to watch the ball drop.  I toyed with the idea of just going to bed early, but that seemed like cheating.  I needed to do this.  And so I stayed up through all the excruciating New Year's Rockin' Eve hoopla.  Midnight came.  2015 dawned.  I took it in, and then went to bed.

A little more than a month later, I found myself with Valentine's Day approaching.  I decided that I would face this holiday - the quintessential couple's holiday - head on and publicly.  I was going to go on a date for Valentine's Day.  With myself.  So, with a bit of trepidation, I began to plan my date.

 I decided to do the typical American date night: fancy, overpriced dinner and a movie.  I perused the movie listings.  There were lots of Oscar nominated films and of course, the big movie everyone was talking about: Fifty Shades of Grey.  Now I am not to admit that I read the 50 Shades series.  I'm also not afraid to admit that I COMPLETELY HATED IT.  It was supposed to be all sexy and racy, but I found it to be just... boring and poorly written.  It was the sex book equivalent of a bad sitcom with a canned laugh track.  Needless to say, I'd rather gouge my eyes out than pay money to see it on the big screen.  As I continued to search, I came across Wild, starring Reese Witherspoon and based on the book by Cheryl Strayed.  I vaguely knew the premise: woman messes up life, goes on walk to figure stuff out, figures stuff out and lives happily ever after.  Seemed like a good girl-power film.  That would do nicely.

My favorite flowers!
  How did you guess?

I found a theater nearby that was still screening Wild, and began to plan my evening around the movie.  There were plenty of nice restaurants in the shopping center surrounding the theater, but I chose to have dinner at Firebirds, because it was just fancy and overpriced enough to be the go-to for a "very romantic evening."  That, and it was literally right across from the theater.  With my plans all made, I got ready for my date.

Everyone knows on Valentine's Day, you have to do the whole flowers and chocolates thing.  My date chose a lovely arrangement of dark pink roses and daisies.  Fragrant, beautiful and a little bit whimsical - just the way I like it.  What a great date I was turning out to be!

All ready for a night on the town!

Since I knew I would be walking around the shopping center, I skipped the dress and opted for very sensible pants.  However, since I wanted look my best for my date, I was sure to dress up the outfit with some festive Valentine's Day touches. After taking a few photos (thanks Diane!), we were off.

As soon  as I arrived at the shopping center, it was clear that  I was not the only person with the idea of getting an early start.  After parking the car, I made my way to the restaurant where I learned Valentine's Day lesson #1: Even if you're a singleton, without a reservation, you are not going to get a table in a fancy restaurant. Or a seat at the bar.  Or have anywhere to stand inside, out of the cold.  In the past, I probably would have gotten a little huffy with my date for not thinking ahead and making a reservation.  However, since part of the exercise was to practice the "go with it" philosophy, it didn't seem necessary.  Instead, I shifted my plan a bit.  I needed to pick up a few things at Target, and Target was right across the parking lot, so my date and I decided to go with Plan B: shopping, then movie, then dinner.

For reasons I didn't want to explore with my date, I felt a little sad wandering around this particular Target.  I started to feel myself want to withdraw and sulk.  My date was patient and understanding, and that patience felt so good to me.  I didn't have to explain or analyze what was going on; I just felt what I was feeling until I was done feeling it.  Then, as the feelings faded, I could refocus on the purpose of the evening: fun!

After our shopping excursion, we decided to head over to the theater.  The show started at 6:40, and it was almost 6:15.  I like to get in and get settled, so my date obliged.  Once I got settled in my seat, (at the bottom of the stadium seats and center, right at the bars so I could put my feet up without disturbing anyone, inn case you were wondering) I started observing the people coming in.  Now, keep in  mind, the show I was seeing was near the end of it's run, (Down to two showings a day at only one theater in the Triangle) so attendance was sparse.  However, even in the theater lobby I observed Valentine's Day Lesson #2: Every other "party" I saw, pretty much everywhere I went were couples. Not necessarily romantic couples, but there seems to be an unwritten rule that if you're single you stay home on this day.  (The one exception to this rule were the guys, all dressed up, frantically scanning the shelves of Target searching for the perfect card for the significant other that they were on their way to meet.)  I was the only person I  saw who was alone.  (This fact either makes me feel incredibly bad-ass and brave, or really pathetic - depending on the moment.  Right now: bad-ass!)

The movie was a perfect choice for me.  It was exactly what I needed for this particular juncture in my life, and I highly recommend it.  Reese Witherspoon completely disappeared into the role - so much so, that I kept forgetting I was watching an actor.  I believed she was this person.  Very cool.  The crux of film is that every event in our life's journey - every step, every misstep, every mistake, every disaster - teaches us.  Every experience is an opportunity to learn.  It was a powerful message about forgiveness, redemption, and growth.  It was just... perfect.  I walked out of the theater reeling a bit, but in the best possible way.

After the movie, I decided to give Firebirds another try.  As I walked in, I heard the words "Still another hour wait."  Undeterred, I walked in like I owned the place, found a recently vacated table in the bar area, and sat down.  

Eventually, a server came by to turn over the table.  "Would you like to order a drink while you wait for your companion?"  

"Nope.  It's just me.  May I see a menu?"

He blinked at me, just a moment, and then smiled weakly.  "Oh.  Ok."

I don't know if the shock was too much for him or what, but a few moments later, a different server stopped at the table.  "I'm going to be taking care of you tonight.  Would you like to order an appetizer while you wait for your companion?"

"No, appetizer, thanks.  And it's just me, so I'm ready to order."

He blinked at me too.  To his credit, he didn't seem quite as stunned as the last guy.  "Ok.  Let's get that order."

I ordered a glass of wine and a big juicy steak.  Then, I settled in to watch the world.  

Part of my requirements of this challenge was to go out to dinner without any of my dining alone armor.  No book to read.  No notebook to scribble in.  No phone to get lost in.  Just me.

As I settled in, a party of four sat down at the table in the banquette next to me.  Since they were a party of four squeezed around a table for two, it was a bit cozy.  I made sure my coat wasn't impinging on the airspace between the two tables, but otherwise I stood my ground.  One of the gentlemen asked if I was using the chair across from  me.  I gestured toward the chair in the most helpful, most non-pathetic way.  "No,  I'm not.  Go right ahead."   

Stripped of my chair, it was completely, totally, indubitably clear that I was A-L-O-N-E.  For a moment, the horrified thought crossed my mind.  Here I was in this place, on this night.  What if I couldn't contain my loneliness and despair?  What if I just burst into tears?  I took a momentary personal inventory.  Yes, I had been to this very restaurant in happier days, and yes, I was a bit wistful for it, but I wasn't anywhere near weeping.  No worries there.  I found myself feeling restless, but I think it was more from not having a distraction than it was feeling alone.

It took me a while to figure out where to look.  There were TVs on in the bar (TVs?  Really?), but other than that, all I could do was people watch.  There were lots of people to watch, so I just started observing.  The first thing I noticed. was that there were no odd numbered groups.  Everyone was paired, or squared off.  The other thing I noticed as I glanced around the room was was that no one looked particularly happy.  This intrigued me, so I started looking more carefully.  I saw people engaged in  conversation, standing around waiting for tables, eating, drinking, starting at the basketball game on the TV, but no one looked happy.  This led me to Valentine's Day Lesson #3: Most people seem to do the whole "Valentine's Day Experience" out of obligation, not out of joy.

I mulled this over for a bit while I ate my $25 steak.  I reflected on the Valentine's Days of my past.  Some of them were good, some of them not-so-good, one or two were just awful.  But none of them were celebrated for the joy of being with someone.  None of them were the organic culmination of overwhelming love.  Almost all of them were of the Well, it's February 14, and all our friends will be doing something cool, so I guess we should too variety. And almost all of them were - in one way or another - a disappointment. It made me wonder if anyone really LIKES the holiday?  Or have we all just fallen into the Hallmark-induced stupor that compels us to do an buy stuff for the sake of doing and buying it?  

While I was thinking about this, the gentleman on the banquette next to me leaned over to address me.

"He made you come out here all by yourself, honey?"

I paused for a moment to consider.  Then  I smiled.  "Nobody made me do anything.  I'm here because I want to be."  And I was.

It was the best, least disappointing Valentine's Day ever.