I’m almost done with grad school. I’m down to the wire where I can count the number of weeks on two hands: 6 left. Six more times of coming downtown on the train. Six more late nights in a classroom. Six more dinners by myself downtown. There are things I’ll miss, but I’m mostly happy that this chapter is coming to a close because there’s so much more excitement around the corner. I’m ready. I’m ready to be done with school (for now, anyways).
I’m not going to miss eating dinner by myself. After sharing every meal with at least someone I know sitting near me, it’s nerve-wracking to sit in a strange place by myself in the city. I used to think I’d like the independence of eating alone, eating whatever I want whenever I want. No one telling me that they don’t want to eat Chinese or they’re not hungry right now. I get to make those calls. But it’s just not fun sitting by myself in a crowded restaurant where everyone else has a dining companion.
I don’t know how single people do this!
The pressure of sitting by myself is stressing me out at this very moment. The pod light shining on me is getting uncomfortably warm. The awkward way I look up from my phone to bring another scoop of rice to my mouth makes me feel like a creeper, encroaching on other diners as I watch their conversations with envy.
No, I won’t miss eating alone on nights like these when I’m downtown for grad school. But there’s only six nights left.