The saddest Happy Hour in the world

I only stopped because the sign outside said “Happy Hour! $3 tacos!”. Three dollars for a taco is a good deal.

But I was alone. In the. Whole. Restaurant. Even the staff looked surprised to see me.

There’s something kind of pleasantly eerie about an empty restaurant. As if it’s a pregnant space awaiting an occupant. Or a space that once was occupied but may now stay empty forever. Grief. Empty restaurants are about grief. The loss of something and the implication that it may never come back. But it’s a beautiful kind of loneliness.

I think that sitting in the window by myself was actually scaring people away though. Many passed and paused, but none came in. The taco was perfectly tasty for three dollars. But the crazy lady, eating alone… that’s not a restaurant you want to visit.

I actually really like doing stuff in public by myself. Going to movies or shows by myself. Eating in restaurants by myself. I think it freaks people out because these are things that we traditionally do on dates, and to undertake them alone is like stating to the world that you are a whole being by yourself. I don’t need company in order to eat a taco. I have eaten many tacos in my home, all alone. To simply repeat that in public is not subversive. It’s dinner. I am not inviting your sympathy either. I’m not inviting you to dinner at all.

Perhaps that is what makes it unsettling to other people – the fact that you are alone yet you don’t need them.

But it’s not about them. It was just about the three dollar taco.



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