Eating Alone

I've never been particularly fond of eating alone. In middle school and high school, eating lunch at a table by yourself was akin to social failure. Perhaps this is where I obtained my negative associations with the whole idea. But in college, it's not a big deal to most people. Freshman and sophomore year, I would often see people sitting by themselves in Frank, sometimes reading the New York Times or doing schoolwork, and I never thought to myself that they must not have any friends. It really wasn't a big deal. Yet, I still couldn't stand the idea of it. When I simply didn't have the time to find someone to eat with, I would also try and read the paper or do work. The problem was that I found this close to impossible. I couldn't focus on what I was reading while trying to coordinate putting forkfuls of food into my mouth, and I just ended up re-reading the same sentences over and over while at the same time eating impossibly slowly. This was not an efficient system. But at the same time, if I sat there with nothing to do, I would just people-watch and end up looking like a creep - or at least, I felt like I did. So I generally just pretended I was reading or doing something when in reality I was just sitting there eating my lunch and thinking about nothing in particular, which I was fairly uncomfortable doing.

Eating at home is a different story. Unless I'm cooking for others, I generally eat by myself and I have no problem with this. In fact, if it's breakfast or lunch I generally prefer the me time. Unless I'm hurrying out the door, my meal is usually accompanied by some Daily Show or Colbert from the night before. I got into a pretty solid routine of doing this and I was content with it.

That is, until I read the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It was a fairly popular book a few years back and was even made into a movie with Julia Roberts as the protagonist. I loved the book and learned a great deal about the three acts she titled her book with. In her section on eating (about the time she spent in Italy learning how to speak Italian and eat properly), Gilbert wrote about a common Italian phrase, il dolce far niente, or in English, "the sweetness of doing nothing." Her Italian friends criticized the way Americans eat, saying how we always needed to be doing something while we ate, whether it was watching TV, working, or socializing. Naturally, this hit home for me because I realized that I was exactly the kind of American the author's friends were talking about when introducing her to the phrase. In Italian culture, they explained, they value the sweetness of doing nothing at all - a concept not well understood by Americans. When you are doing something else while you eat, it takes away from the pleasure of the very act itself. Instead of paying attention to the food, you're paying attention to the television or the internet or the work you're trying to get done during your limited lunch hour. But the food doesn't get adequately appreciated.

After realizing how horribly I've insulted my food all these years by seeking out something to do rather than just enjoying my meal, I took it upon myself to change this awful habit. While I do still attempt to kill two birds with one stone when I really need to, I've also stopped feeling ashamed of myself when I do eat by myself. Rather than worrying about looking like that high schooler who sits alone because she has no friends to eat with, I spent the time getting to know my food better. And I can tell you first-hand that the sweetness Gilbert wrote about is entirely palpable.