20something column: Leave me alone...I think

By AMANDA BENSEN
Published in The Post-Star (G2) 5/24/07

I went to see a play by myself a few weeks ago, and got a free serving of pity with the candy bar I bought at intermission.

"You're all alone," said the guy behind the concession booth, in a tone of voice that suggested this was perhaps the saddest thing he'd ever witnessed.

As I headed back to my seat, I looked around. He had a point -- everyone else in the room was part of a couple or group of friends. Heck, even the play itself was about a couple. I started feeling a bit self-conscious. Was I supposed to have stayed home because my boyfriend had to work?

I remembered feeling this way at other times, often while traveling. Last time I went out to dinner alone, the waiter treated me like I was naked in public and should be ashamed.

"I'll rush your order, so you don't have to stay here alone for long, sweetheart," he promised.

So after the play, I decided to prove to the world (or at least myself) that there's nothing weird about a young woman going out by herself. I went to my favorite jazz bar and ordered a glass of wine, prepared to just relax and people-watch for a while.

Of course, I forgot that it was around 10 p.m. on a weeknight, and there were only about three people there to watch. Within about two sips, my bravado was completely gone, and my desire to disappear was battling with my innate sense of thrift (you shouldn't waste an $8 glass of wine).

I imagined that the two girls engrossed in conversation at the other end of the bar were peering at me with disdain, as though I was a kind of spider lying in wait to entrap hapless boyfriends. I've seen that look whenever I show up alone at parties.

I tried not to stare at the man chugging expensive scotch a few seats down -- you don't chug scotch unless you've got some serious problems -- and focused intently on the television instead. That is, until I realized that the object of my faux fascination was one of those embarrassing medical commercials.

Eventually, I caved. I reached for my cell phone, and texted a friend to see if she would join me.

"No, I have a headache," came the reply.

Okay, I thought, chugging my wine. Time to back out with my tail between my legs.

Suddenly my wine glass was full again.

The bartender's shift had ended, and he was on my side of the bar now, buying me a drink. I realized that my misguided attempt at singles empowerment appeared nothing short of pathetic, and I had to laugh. It was a relief to have someone to talk to.

My friend changed her mind and arrived a few minutes later. Maybe she figured that only a serious crisis could have landed me at a bar by myself on a Wednesday night. I was OK, but I'm still glad she showed up. Because, in the end, there's a reason people tend to go out in groups: Friends are fun.

-- Amanda Bensen is a features writer for the Post-Star. She's not trying to steal your boyfriend.