"Want to have dinner with us tonight?"
"No thanks, I have plans to eat alone."
On the menu is:
fireflies
a Sri Lankan rice and curry spread
mud-stained toe nails
satiating solitude
Riddle me this. Humans need connection, but all I want to do is be alone.
Sitting in the park, I’m witnessing perfect contradictions to my current mindset. One person is calmly cradle-swaying a baby (newborn, I’m guessing based on size), two kids look pretty happy on a wizzy dizzy (what is that spinning playground jackpot actually called?), the skate park is in full bloom with laid-back words of encouragement and denim shorts finishing varying lengths below the knee, a toddler is getting a kick out of being guided by two hands over a wooden log, and I know the duo on the bench behind me are enjoying their ice-cream catch-up over to exchange travel photos, because they said so.
I feel content for them, without needing to be a part of it. That should be obvious from my nothing-to-be-afraid-of spectator smile (lips only, teeth would be weird).
But, recently, I’ve found solitude particularly addictive. I’ve always really liked it (and looked forward to it), but I’m now seeking it out. And clearly not feeling too concerned about it either. Well, enough to process it here, but not enough to stop me from taking myself off to Sri Lanka.
It’s no big deal though. It’s happened before. Like when I was drifting through hostels and the expected patchwork group formed. The one where you realise you’re all OMG passing through Montenegro and Bosnia and Herzegovina at the same pace and OMG ALSO hiking Durmitor National Park at the EXACT SAME TIME. It’s all so fun, and funny, and shit I hope you find your stolen passport soon, but also I’m not here to negotiate between cevapcici vs börek for lunch, so I’m going to go now. Maybe see you again, maybe not.
So, in Sri Lanka when I had this beach bar in mind that I wanted to ride my bike to and drink some form of spiced ginger spritz, before struggling to apply suncream to my back, I had to respectfully say ‘no’ to an invite that required more human interaction than ordering. Because I also then had a plan to swim, dodge a flash down-pour, dip my charred feet into thick puddles and take myself to a curry spot around the corner. Thanks again though, you’re interesting and cool, and I’m sure you’re friends are also interesting and cool, but I want to keep shutting everybody out in favour of solo satiation. Right now, it’s more satisfying to have four types of sambols, a tuna curry, a veggie curry, a lentil curry, that sauce, another sauce, a fried peanut mix and rice all to myself. Because I love rubbing my hands together and mentally saying ‘YES YUM GOOD GOD YUM SHIT WOW’ instead of verbally, so I don’t need to break my chewing stride or the book’s stream on conscious.
To be clear, tonight I’m going to a wine bar with TJ and Caro, AND I WANT TO DO IT AND AM LOOKING FORWARD TO IT. But not before I walk there myself, order a glass of something, rub my hands together again, peel open a book and completely ignore the fact that I’m not too sure on my income stream, or anything. And you’ll probably see this space morph into something more like that. Sporadic, going willingly without pattern, or theme, or appetiser. Self-inflicted pressure is exhausting. Self-indulgent activities, like eating alone are not.
HAVE A NICE, GOOD (OKAY? WE’LL SETTLE FOR OKAY) TIME WITH YOUR PEOPLE. OR BY YOURSELF.