The Night I Learned the Value of Dining Alone!

The Request

Just as I began to settle in, the server returned, his expression uneasy. “I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “Would you mind moving closer to the kitchen? A family’s arriving, and we’d like to combine your table with the one next to it.”

The subtext was clear: a solo diner takes up less space, and space is currency. The instinct to yield—to smile and say “No problem!”—rose quickly. I knew that reflex well.

But something in me held firm.

“Thank you for asking,” I said evenly. “I’d prefer to stay here.”

A flicker of tension crossed his face, then softened. “Of course,” he replied. “Absolutely. Thank you.” He walked away, gripping the menu a little too tightly.

Then came the doubt. Was I selfish? Did the family need more room? But before the spiral took hold, the halibut arrived—perfectly seared, layered with lemon and herbs like a quiet symphony. One bite steadied me.

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