Contributed by:
Simon Moya-Smith/YourHub staff
Article Contributed on: 12/17/2008 2:51:00 PM
It was not very long ago (a couple of weeks maybe) that I found myself enjoying a succulent Italian dish at a popular north Denver eatery.
As I sat in a seemingly over-sized booth enjoying a creamy fettucine alfredo and shrimp dish (my meal of choice), I observed large families as they sauntered their way into the restaurant, each one seemingly on the brink of salivating from hunger.
As I rested my head over my parmesan cheese-powdered plate, I began to notice something odd. People from virtually every angle of my periphery were periodically glancing over at me.
I began to wonder, as most people in my situation would, had I, in some natural excitement at the dishes' flavor, accidentally flung a noodle off the table? Or was it possible these were all
YourHub.com users and each had recognized my face from my column photo? Sadly, neither were the case.
I then began to notice my surroundings. The table directly in front of me catered to a family of four. The table directly behind me, six. Even the bar patrons appeared to be of all one party, shouting at one another from opposite ends; one guy even loudly asking a pal, "Do you want a bite? I said, 'Do...you...want...a...bite!?'"
It then dawned on me, like one of those light-bulb-above-our-head moments: I was the only customer dining 'a la carte. There were no others in the restaurant eating alone. Just me. In that epiphany, I entertained the idea that somehow I, Simon Moya-Smith, was the restaurant's main attraction. At moments, it looked like everyone was collectively (and subtlety) looking at me from the bridges of their shoulders, trying ever so hard not to break their necks.
Not entirely bothered by the plethora of eyeballs consuming my person, I finished my meal, paid the check and walked out in my black pea coat, collar popped like a Navy seaman's would onboard a ship jaunting across the arctic.
Later, as I sat in my living room, sipping my post-dinner cup of coffee, I pondered at what had just happened.
Questions began to race through my cerebral. Is it taboo to be single during the holiday season? "Of course not," I said aloud to myself. But what does it mean when others gaze upon you, like an unfestooned Christmas tree amongst illuminated ones?
Thusly, I pose a question: Do the holidays bring to the surface those of us who are without a significant other, or even a large family? Are we somehow unusual for enjoying a fettucine dinner at popular restaurant in the month of December? Honestly, there would be no way I could've waited for January to roll around to enjoy my favorite of all Italian dishes. It really is that good.
So, I'm a bachelor. A single gent from a small brood. And I'm just curious: Do
you notice us, the single community, at restaurants or any other public establishments during the holidays? And if so, what are your thoughts when you see us splashing around in our yummy, and shrimpy, meals at a table all alone?
Chime away.