"I'm Trying Something New."

Beginning of this year, I read Mindy Kaling’s memoir. (If you haven’t read it and are in need of an entertaining, light read, I definitely suggest it.)

In her book, Mindy (I call her Mindy because I feel that we could be friends if I lived in LA, or if she lived in central Texas) talks about how stress should never be a “legitimate topic of conversation” because it’s nothing extraordinary. That is, everyone is stressed out, so why do we ever utter the phrase, “oh my goodness, I am soooo stressed right now?”

She goes on to say that she will never say this phrase, just like she will never latch on to the idea of “me time.”

Now, I totally get the stress thing. But, man, I love me some “Jonna time.” Love it. Can’t get enough. I just feel better when I spend some time alone. I love my friends, I love Ray, and I love spending time with people that I care about and have fun with. But, I also can (and do) enjoy spending hours on my couch / bed / living room floor doing things that can only be described as “Jonna time.” It includes, but is not limited to: nail painting, Survivor, and eating a meal of Doritos, fruit roll-ups, and Sweet Leaf green tea, straight from the jug of course.

But, there’s something I’ve wanted to try for like, a really long time. I’ve been wanting to go to a restaurant alone, eat alone, maybe drink alone, and enjoy my own company, alone. It’s something I’ve termed a “Jonna Date.”

I know it seems kind of weird. And, it seems like it would be incredibly uncomfortable. But before you form your opinion, let me paint you a picture of the very first “Jonna Date.”

Wednesday afternoon, I get off work at 5 and head to this place called Tre Trattoria. Ray and I had been once before and I had been itching to go again. Well, let me tell you, this place is as dead as a doornail at 5:20ish on a Wednesday afternoon. When I walked in, I was compelled to ask the hostess if they were even open.

I let her know that I was just going to mosey on over to their bar and proudly walked over. There are no chairs or barstools at the bar, so I had no choice but to sit at a little high-top table, which intended for four people. One of the chefs was milling around and asked me if I was “meeting some friends.” “Nope, it’s just me!” I respond, a little too eagerly. I talked to the bartender and ordered a glass of wine and then ran back to my car to get my nook. See, I figured that the “Jonna Date” maybe would include some light reading.

Well, I sat there, played on my phone, read a little David Sedaris, and small talked with the bartender.

How was the “Jonna Date,” you ask?

It was good.

I stayed there for about 2 hours, read a couple chapters of my book, and even ordered a pizza. (It was delicious, by the way). The whole experience was kind of liberating. Liberating in the “I-did-something-I-don’t-usually-do-and-I-feel-awesome-because-I-stepped-out-of-my-comfort-zone” way.

It was also a little strange, I won’t lie. It definitely crossed my mind that some of the servers and the other patrons may have been judging me. This feeling was hard to fend off when one of my ex-grad school peers walked in and saw me, at my four-top table. Ridin’ solo. Drinkin’ away. We small talked for a few minutes until he went to meet up with his friend. (My wine intake may have been accelerated at this point, just saying).

Will I do it again, you ask?

Probably.

I think it’s nice to do things that you don’t usually do. It breaks up the monotony that can become a constant in our lives. And, if you know me at all, you know that I am a creature of habit. A solo happy hour is about as wild as things get in my neck of the woods.