Someday when I'm older

- By Schnockered Mom Natalie

Getting older sucks. Sitting on the floor for too long causes that creaking, aching feeling upon standing. My body has started sagging in places I’d rather it wouldn’t. People have started calling me Ma'am and I no longer get carded. Weekend yardwork has become something to recover from.

But getting older has its advantages too. I’m more comfortable in my own skin (albeit slightly more creased and less elastic skin). I can attend social events alone without anxiety welling up and revealing itself in the red splotches on my chest. Talking to new people is no longer a problem. And eating dinner alone in restaurants doesn’t pose the challenge it once did.

Twenty years ago the thought of dinner alone at a restaurant sent waves of fear rushing over me revealing all my introverted tendencies. I think a person’s view of dining alone divides the introverts from the extroverts. True extroverts would think, ‘what’s the big deal about eating alone?’ True extroverts wouldn’t even consider this an accomplishment. Although spending an entire meal alone not speaking to anyone might be just as challenging to an extrovert. So maybe extroverts and introverts alike feel somewhat uncomfortable about dining in a restaurant alone.

I remember the first time I ate alone at a restaurant just to prove to myself I could. I was 17. I chose a Mexican restaurant near my house in Kansas City (no, Jon, not the one with the powdered day-glo orange cheese). This sit-down joint was also a hot-spot for young, beautiful people to swig margaritas and cold imported beer. I was seated at a two-top facing the bar a mere body length away. Paralyzed from drawing unwanted attention to myself I didn’t ask for a quieter table or even switch to the chair opposite me so I’d have my back to the bar. To make matters slightly more uncomfortable I didn’t think to bring a diversion like reading material. Instead I read the drink menu over and over and over until my food arrived. After shoveling the food into my mouth as fast as humanly possible I hightailed it out the door to the introvert freedom of the car. Whew!

Now that I’m older and more comfortable in my own skin, I’ve gotten much better at dining alone. Recently, I was in DC on business. I stayed in old town Alexandria, which has a cute shopping and restaurant district with ankle-breaking cobblestone sidewalks and that Americana charm. The first night in town I went exploring to find a nice meal to enjoy. Sushi bars are always a good choice for dining solo. The sushi chef can be entertaining to watch and you aren’t segregated to your own table for two in the corner of the room. But I was interested in tasting some local fare. What is typical DC fare anyway? My guess was seafood, which is why I ended up at a Spanish restaurant. Oh well.

La Tasca was a lively tapas bar and restaurant. The hostess ushered me to the back near a young couple with an obnoxious three year old. Looks like two-tops and parties with children are banished to the back together. But I had an incredible view of the Raphael Nadal look-alike tending bar and was pleased to see Antonio Banderas would be my server. Things were looking up.

I sat for a moment observing my fellow diners. Besides the young couple with the child, there was a 20-something with what looked to be her parents sharing dessert (birthday celebration, maybe), a group of three women sipping Sangria. Two doughy college girls serving themselves sangria from a pitcher for what might be their third round. Can’t wait to see one of these gals stumble to the bathroom. There was another group of four people - a round and homely white woman in her 30s, an intellectual black man with suede patches at the elbows of his sportcoat, probably in his 40s and two young Indian girls. What brought the four of them together? A scientific conference in town? I didn’t see any name badges hanging from their necks or the give-away bag emblazoned with the latest wonder drug. Then I overheard statements like “…in the Boston office…” and “…expense report…” when they were calculating how to split the bill. Most definitely work acquaintances.

After this quick survey of the room, I pulled out my still much-needed diversion for dining alone. A pen and a notebook. Maybe my waiter will think I’m a food critic and amp up the service or throw in dessert or a glass of wine for free. I worked on maintaining relaxed body language. Open hands, uncrossed arms and legs. Slow, controlled movements. No fidgety feet under the table. Someday maybe I won’t have to consciously adjust my behavior to maintain a look of relaxed comfort. Someday when I’m older I’ll actually be comfortable.