Party of One

So what is it about dining alone? As long as its Starbucks or McDonalds or the local café, it’s alright, but try going alone to a real restaurant. From the hostess stand to the table there is this sense of “really? Really, is she going to dine alone?" They don’t know whether to feel sorry for you or awed by you.

The other night I went to my favorite restaurants of all time: The Grist Mill in Gruene, TX. I remember when they first opened this place waaaay back when. It is literally in an old abandoned grist mill that sits above the Guadalupe River. The back walls had caved away and you could see sky from inside. This was a very seasonal dining place when it first came into being.  Through the years they have enclosed the interior of the mill to invite year-round business. They have also developed the outside dining area giving it several layers of decks that put you out there in the boughs of live oak trees and give you a glance of the river below. If I have my druthers I always go for outdoor seating. 

For my first night of solo journey, I decide to go to the Grist Mill. It is after all a favorite place, filled with many memories of my Slumber Falls Camp days and the dear people I knew and loved then. I adore the setting and I enjoy their food, so off I go. The sun is beginning to hang low in the sky and the air is cooling down from the afternoon heat. It just feels really good to walk down the brick path next to the Historic Dance Hall towards the tower and the entrance of the Mill. Perhaps it is nostalgia; maybe it is just simple anticipation.

There is an older couple in front of me, heading the same direction. They arrive at the hostess stand before me; I hang back a couple of feet, because well, duh, I’m not with them.  The girls look up and then says to the man, “table for 3?”  It was comical to watch his bewilderment. It was obvious to him that he was there with his wife. Where did this 3^rd person come from? The girls looked slightly embarrassed; apologized and passed the couple off to one of the other hosts to be seated.

Now it is my turn. “Just one?” they ask. Yes, two of them chimed in together to ask the question. You could hear the pity and the curiosity in their voices,  like that is so sad and so unusual and what in the world are you thinking? My host takes me to the seat, asking if I had ever been to the Mill before. Obviously a single person would know better than to come here alone, right?

I’m seated at a great spot on the upper deck. I see the older couple being seated below. I giggle to myself.  Wouldn’t it have been funny to pretend I was his daughter and what do you mean I’m not with you? Anyway, as I’m thinking about funny scenarios to make bewildered people even more bewildered, my waitress comes to the table.

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

“Ah, no, just me.” 

“Oh.” You can hear the surprise and disappointment in her voice.  She is probably thinking, “Great! Here’s a lousy tip.”  If she didn’t think it, she sure did act it. She never told me about the specials for the day; went right into what I wanted to drink. Brought my Shiner Bock. “Do you know what you want yet?” “No, I don’t.”   “Well do you want an appetizer?”  “Actually that would be good.” 

She was very short with me. She acted like I should just know what the dips are from their names. “One’s red ,the other’s green.”  Oh my. She’s either having a bad day, thinks I'm stupid or she really is not happy about serving a lone woman. I have heard that women are not good tippers. I wonder if it is because lone women are treated in a way that makes them feel not so much like tipping?

Anyway, you get the idea. This waitress was not real interested in serving me. She hurried as I ordered my meal, assumed I wanted ranch dressing on my salad – she asked about that as she was walking away. I made her stop and tell me what dressings they had. She never offered dessert at the end of the meal; just brought me my check like I was done.

I tipped her well anyway. Maybe she was just having a bad day. If not, perhaps she will come to understand that single people deserve a good dining experience as much, if not more so, than a couple or a group of friends. And in spite of her worst efforts, I did have a very good dining experience. I read from a good book. I watched the sunset behind the trees. I savored the taste of my Shiner Bock and the flavors of the chicken and steamed squash. I enjoyed my blue cheese dressing. I thought "life is good." I watched people enjoying themselves. I took pleasure in the feel of a Texas April evening on my skin. I gave thanks for good food and good company in a very special place.

A very wise, widowed friend of mine declared as she shared an experience of being singled out for being single and out, “it is a party of one.”  Party is the key word. It is not always easy to get out there by ourselves, but it is even worse to hide out at home, not experiencing the joys of life because we’re too afraid or embarrassed to go it alone. If I can’t enjoy my own company, why should I bore someone else with it?  What makes me think adding people is the only way to enjoy a cold beer and good food in a great setting. Ok, it is really nice and fun to enjoy these things with others. I’ll be the first to admit that. But there is also something to be said for the “party” of one. 

Here's to you, Jenny. Here's to you.