I had to think hard before I could remember the last time I did something fun by myself — not errands, not a workout, just something for me. The best I could come up with was shooting hoops or maybe window shopping. It’s funny: for someone who enjoys being alone, I rarely go out alone.
Maybe it’s because doing things solo costs money. When I’m with others, spending feels justified — events, movies, trips — but when it’s just me, I’d rather save the money. It feels selfish somehow, like I should save that money for something “real.”
At home, I’m comfortable alone. I work out, watch sports, read, and stream shows — things that keep my mind busy. But being alone in the world feels different. It’s not just quiet; it’s exposure. I envy people who can eat out or watch a movie solo without caring who notices. They seem confident in their own company.
If I were to start, I’d keep it simple — go see a movie alone. It’s low effort and doesn’t require small talk. Still, I know I’d regret it and think about how I could’ve just watched something at home. But there’s something appealing about the freedom — no coordinating, no compromises, no worrying about anyone else’s preferences. Just all me, doing what I want.
That freedom is what draws me to it. But there’s also a small fear: that people might see me sitting alone and think it’s sad. Maybe that comes from childhood — the instinct to not look “left out.”
Maybe the trick is to focus on the moment — the movie, the meal, the game — and stop caring about others. Comfort probably starts there: when you stop needing your solitude to be hidden.
Doing things solo doesn’t have to mean isolation; it can mean discovery. Maybe there are parts of me I haven’t met yet — interests, capabilities — waiting for me to start.
johnro 
Leave a comment