Me: I’m going out to lunch today, all by myself. I don’t know where I’m going, but it will be a sit down restaurant with real flatware.
Bill: (laughing) I hope somebody hits on you.
Me: I have gray hair, honey. Nobody is going to hit on me.
And so I went. I ended up at a Macaroni Grill where I have only eaten one other time – right before Bill left. The host put me in the exact same booth where we sat before. I sat on the same side and ignored the empty seat across from me.
It was nice. Nobody had to go to the bathroom. Nobody climbed under the table. Nobody spilled anything. Nobody talked too loudly. Nobody needed me to cut up their food. Nobody had to be convinced his meal was going to be yummy, even if it wasn’t like Mom’s. Nobody drew stares.
Nobody hit on me. The waiter, a young odd man I dubbed “Mr. Thumbs Up,” did keep calling me “hon” but in a manner completely devoid of innuendo.
I finished the book I was reading. I sat with a napkin on my lap and gently dabbed my mouth with it when necessary. I ate dessert. I paid the bill, shocked by how cheap it was since it was lunch for one and not dinner for eight. I left a generous $3 tip.
I went Christmas shopping (nearly done now). No whining. No crying. No slow-moving children. No buckling. No distracting. No pleading. No bargaining. No bribing.
I went home. Happy. Renewed.