#667 Yummy for One

I’ve decided to challenge myself lately and go to all the restaurants I normally went to when I was married or on a date.
And go there alone.
Single people should not be condemned to fast food.
The biggest problem I see with the process is that nicer restaurants tend to be dark. And darkness makes it difficult to whip out a book and start reading.
Dark restaurants are designed for intimate conversation. Trading the secrets of one’s dreams and desires with someone you think might actually want to listen.
Dating is kind of like doing a mini-biographical essay in a one-on-one symposium. Or I suppose autobiographical is more like it.
Although if it’s auto as in automatic there’s often something sticky in the transmission.
In any event, those little novellas of intimacy are perfect for a dimly lit restaurant with tablecloths and wine and stuff. But hard to pull off without someone to talk to.
So you try bringing a real book.
If one were to bring a book to such a place it should be a hardcover, preferably with a sprung back so it stays open. Struggling with holding your paperback open, and reading, and juggling silverware, and eating, is not good form. Emily Post would surely have some advice.
But it would likely be “stay away.”
No singles and no babies, this is a “nice” restaurant.
A big hardback book may pass. But paperbacks definitely not, and God forbid you should bring a magazine.
I suppose a weighty periodical like the Wall Street Journal may convince some of your social worth despite the obvious ignominy of your singlehood, but large newspapers really don’t fit so well on tiny two-tops.
So I’ve taken the challenge and turned the tables on the whole process. Instead of sitting there timidly, I boldly look at the other sets of folk, observe their body language and amuse myself by predicting what they may be saying to one another.
And I don’t worry if I overhear interesting bits of conversation. The ebb and flow of conversation in the room always offers up disembodied, curious, and fascinating snippets.
It’s kind of like a book on tape.
America, ya gotta love it