A Date with Myself

The glass of Merlot had spilled onto the white tablecloth adorning the round table in the beautiful new French restaurant that had opened right around the corner. "It takes a few weeks until Les Huguenots allows the general populace to enter, celebrities are first in line", my friend cautioned when I told her that I wanted to try it out. It was like taking a page out of “My Fair Lady” for me to prepare to speak to the soft-spoken French hostess with an air of confidence and ease, I even threw in a few words in French as best as I could. I have always been a Francophile but never made the time to learn the language, so I finally decided that I would fill my life with beautiful French scarves, French wine, French-girl styles, and, eventually, the French language. I was committed to becoming a bon vivant but with a purpose, I would begin posting more and engaging others on my Instagram account, and gaining followers that would see me as the classy, well-read girl I wanted to project. However, at that moment, the wine was seeping through the tablecloth and spreading to my new favorite lace crocheted doily, which was beginning to bleed red into my newly purchased, very expensive, sleek handbag I wanted to show off online and tag the brand. I began to prepare my phone, for it was my plan to take a quick selfie with my purse in the hot, ensuring I captured the small sign indicating I was in the restaurant. I took it out, centered it on my face while the waiter watched in horror as I tried to smile and hold the glass from fully falling on the floor and capturing more attention. I snapped the picture, but before I knew it, the glass shattered, causing three different couples to wince at the pathetic nature of this display. Shame waved its red flag, shattered pieces of one of their finest glasses had usurped upon the peaceful atmosphere of the restaurant, and I was mid-selfie trying to finish my task before fleeing the crime scene. Poe himself would cringe at the macabre scene I had concocted in front of the good people of Les Huguenots. My short journey into next level blogger-hood suddenly took a screeching halt, I turned as red as the wine that had spilled while the panic-stricken waiter ran across the restaurant to quickly handle the situation. My situation needed to be handled. With my tail tucked between my legs, I began to scurry out of the fancy restaurant when I bumped into them. Suffice it to say, I was not the first one after the breakup to find myself shrouded in a cloud of adoring gentlemen. Would I spend the rest of my life alone? Would this sense of isolation gnaw at my heart any longer, or would I finally find a solid social circle, followers, and a loving partner with whom to travel? My job paid handsomely; I could take days off if I wanted to yet there was never the right opportunity to take off any days. I had nowhere to go, or so it felt. Morning after morning, schlepping from work to home and vice versa takes a toll, and my skin was beginning to show it. The dark circles seemed to expand, the number of co-workers reminding me I looked tired was exorbitant, and my binge-watching tv-shows well into 3 o’clock in the morning did not help. My movie and tv-show fantasy life ate into my sleep, my job hours ate into my vacation hours which timed out by the end of the year, and my self-resentment grew with a monstrosity of a tapeworm that would soon hijack my brain. My helplessness, dependence on someone making the time for me, instead of the other way around, continued to torment me. I was very much done with the weirdos that did not respect me as a person and I was done waiting for quick replies, dating virtually is a disaster. The more I started to gain insight into the dependence I had cultivated inside me, the more powerless I felt against it. This was my life.

Shortly after my embarrassment and an immutable social presence which suffered from a feeling of utter emptiness, I found myself making erratic decisions. Most of it culminated in my leaving full-time employment, filling my time with part-time gigs to cover rent, and I forgot my dreams and goals to travel, learn French, do more yoga, and assert my independence onto the world. It seemed that with freelance work I had more time, but I never really made the time to do the things I wanted to do. I threw myself into reading, I read anything pertaining to science fiction, self-help books, career changing books, and the classics. The more I read, the more I decided that I wanted to be in charge of my life, and I was the only one who could cultivate discipline. Why hadn't I invested time in the daily tasks I wanted to do? Why didn't I take days off? Why did I feel alone all the time? Had I given up on myself? I had completely lost control and gained a wavering sense of self-worth. Here I was, a college educated, relatively intelligent woman with goals to make a splash in my field, take care of my own body and mind, and try to find joy but something held me back. All I could preoccupy myself with was popularity online, relationship goals, and making a buck. The first decision to take care of myself and engage in self-love was pivotal, I chose to join a class that taught the practice of mindfulness. I imagined myself being more Zen and focused, and I decided to actualize that first goal and make it my life's mission. What would remain with me in the long term, a relationship, or my own physical and mental health? The more I engaged in focus exercises, observing my thought processes from the side, and letting some thoughts pass, the more I realized that I was impatient, and my decision making had become chaotic. Life should not have been a rat race for success, I was not up for the Forbes 30 under 30 anytime soon, so why was I always comparing myself to others? I have been working on embracing uncertainty, looking forward to the goals I will set for myself, and respect the simplicity of being with myself.

Once I engaged with the mindfulness community, I stopped trying so hard to look like anything. I did not have to delete my account, but I no longer felt the need to go somewhere to take a picture. I decided I would respect myself; I wouldn't be helpless. Anything that would happen to me, I would begin to have a choice. Soon after, I downloaded a language learning app that gamifies learning and timed myself to do it every single day. I faltered occasionally but decided to enjoy the process. I was not focused just on... results results results!

With a few months of language learning, online Yoga classes (yes, it is actually helpful and saves travel time), and mindfulness practice, I decided to plan for a trip that I would take, alone. But first, I had to brave that French restaurant alone. So, I went on a date, with myself.

I made the reservation, put on one of my favorite dresses as a treat for myself, grabbed my wallet without my purse, and just walked into Les Huguenots. I hesitated for a moment; everyone was coupled up. No! You go in there and you enjoy that meal and think about your upcoming trip. Talking myself into dinner did not last long because once I decided to focus on what I wanted to eat, what drink I would enjoy most, and how comfortable the lounge area would be for those who wish to read the collection the restaurant had afforded its customers and sip on their wine, all stress melted away. Confidently, I requested a glass of Merlot and began to browse the collection of books on their antique shelves. Hiding my phone away from view, I sat in the red velvet sofa, the exquisite glass of Merlot in one hand and a French classic in the other, I was engrossed fully in Balzac's plain writing style which worked out for my intermediate level French. I do not have the evidence in any social media post, but I had a wonderful time on my date.