People Who Eat Alone

I have always been one of those people that have never had a problem doing things alone. Even when I was in college surrounded by endless amounts of people my own age, sometimes I needed that "me" time to go see a movie by myself, or go shopping, or pick up some dinner, etc. However, for some reason whenever I see someone doing something alone, especially someone that is eating alone in a restaurant, my heart breaks.

If that person is an old man, I even tear up at the thought of their life. Last night a friend and I went to grab a bit to eat at Shanghai River and a middle-aged man came in and got a table for one. He looked so lonely and I almost went up to him to say hi, but he probably would have been insulted by that gesture. All too often I have too much compassion for people that don't need or want it. I can't help but make up these complex stories (sometimes morbid) in my head of why this person is there and what they are feeling. 

Maybe his wife died in a terrible car accident and this used to be their favorite place to go for dinner. Maybe to avoid coming home to an empty house he likes to stay out and fill up his time eating at restaurants and watching everyone else enjoy their evening, eavesdrop on conversations, etc. Maybe his family is back at home and he is living here temporarily for work. Maybe he's getting stood up on a first (or second) date. I wonder what he does for a living.  Does he have children? If so, do they get along, do they keep in touch?

Odds are, that man was perfectly happy eating his Kung Pao chicken a la carte for one. He probably just likes to people watch. Maybe he has a loving family back at home and his wife was out playing Bunco. Or maybe his wife was hosting Bunco and she kicked him out of the house until 10 pm so she and her friends could brag about their children, scream obnoxiously loud on a good roll, and bitch about their men not helping out around the house. Or maybe something did happen to the one he loved, but he was coping with it just fine and dining out on a Thursday night was his regular routine. 

That's a lot of maybes. The old men are the ones that truly get to me. Old women as well, but there is more of a fear that I will end up alone like them than there is compassion for their situation.

These are all unfair thoughts, because I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me when I am out doing things by myself. If someone wanted to sit with me and have a conversation, I would find it quite odd, although depending on my mood at the time, it would be welcome. Sometimes my compassion gets the best of me. All too often I get so upset at the thought of something fictitiously blown out of proportion when I have no idea what the reality of the situation is.

Maybe mister Wal-Mart greeter has millions and just wants something to occupy his time. Perhaps the elementary crossing guard just enjoys the exercise and keeping people safe. It could be that the elderly woman who takes a morning stroll with her cane through River Oaks every morning is too much of a speed demon for her husband to keep up.

Although I feel my compassion is an important quality to have, it's time I start giving people the benefit of the doubt.