It’s the question we’ve all wanted that well-spoken upperclassman with a bold taste in sweaters to ask us as we depart our Sociology 1101 class: “Want to get a meal sometime?”
It’s not a precisely romantic thing, but perhaps more indicative of the elusive “friend crush” turned real friend. Maybe it’s our nationally acclaimed dining service (live the legend), or that we require an hour to decompress from our overcommitted schedules. Meal time is sacred. It’s a time to get to know someone new or to catch up with an old friend. It’s a social time.
But what if it isn’t?
Many of us feel anxious when five o’clock is nearing and we have yet to solidify a dinner plan. Some of us will even skip a meal if it means avoiding walking into Thorne by ourselves.
So we had to do it.
The plan was simple. Breakfast and lunch were too easy. We would enter the Sunday evening dinner rush with nothing but a OneCard. We didn’t allow ourselves any armor: no laptop, no notebook, no phone. Carly ventured into the Moulton dark room, while Tessa, having drawn the short straw, went to Thorne.
Carly’s experience was more pleasant than she anticipated. She found a seat easily, and was only minorly interrupted from her solitude when her friends gave her confused looks as to why she had chosen an empty table over their company. While she wasn’t necessarily stressed, Carly wasn’t luxuriating, either. She kept her head down and ate quickly, save for the lavish sundae she made herself to celebrate the end of her solo night on the town.
Tessa thought she would be fine, though upon confrontation with a line out the door of Thorne, she panicked. She nervously paced the “catwalk,” searching for an inconspicuous end seat, which she found only after passing the same friend what felt like an uncomfortable amount of times. Her potentially reassuring sense of anonymity had dissolved under ceilings that felt a little bit higher than usual.
What she initially thought was a secluded corner was immediately overrun by a throng of burly men with Gatorade water bottles. As Carly sat quietly and contemplated her recent reading of Michel Foucault, Tessa tried her hand at talkin’ sports.
“How’s the season going?” Sports.
“Our first game is on Saturday, everyone should come.” You heard that, Arts & Entertainment readers. Everyone.
Tessa’s pal came over with a concerned expression and asked if everything was okay. Tessa responded that she had just wanted to be alone, but was enjoying the time spent with her new friends. Things seemed swell.
As more teammates came back with their trays, the conversation halted. Through their discussion of Maine winter, it quickly became clear that the brave soul who had spoken to Tessa was a first year. The older ones seemed to be making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact. It was a very distilled moment of that phenomenon we’re all familiar with: after freshman fall, talking freely to people outside of one’s social circle becomes less comfortable and accepted. Tessa felt a selfish pang of disappointment that the strangers at the table would remain unknown to her.
We wonder what factors made our experiences so different. Carly left her dinner satisfied with the new knowledge that she could, in fact, sit alone among people and feel safe. Tessa could not exit the situation fast enough. Is it that Moulton love runs deep in Tessa’s veins that makes solo Thorne so terrifying to her? Is there a difference between sitting at an empty table by yourself and a full table surrounded by people who won’t talk to you? Or is it that Carly is a self-proclaimed introvert, while Tessa scored 100% extroverted on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator?
At a college like Bowdoin, with its sense of community, there is little division between school and home. All aspects of life blend together in a way that is wonderful, and, at times, draining. Arranging our weekly dinners can become yet another extracurricular. Scheduling the social, though, is more fraught than balancing labs and readings. That being said, mealtime is special at Bowdoin. Growing into that mutual understanding of “let’s get a meal” is an important part of feeling like you belong here.
It’s also important to feel like you can be alone here. It comes down to the fear of being too visible, or too invisible. Eating alone feels like a statement. We did it as part of our performance art column. But shouldn’t we be comfortable unabashedly taking up space, sitting on our own? On the other hand, is it really so bad to go unseen for half an hour, eating among our peers? It’s cool to be excited about people at Bowdoin and want to spend your time with them, but it’s also healthy to want to spend time with yourself. Our communal spaces don’t have to be shared all the time. As hard as it might be to admit it to ourselves, no one really gives a shit about whether we’re eating with friends or alone. It’s all in our heads.
So we challenge you to practice eating dinner alone. Build yourself into your schedule. Extra points for eating at Thorne.