The Comfort of Date Night

My Asian roommates never cease to amaze me, but this time their ability to disgust hit an all time low. Still groggy and blurry eyed from my beauty sleep, I stumbled into the kitchen to make my coffee, as I do every morning. Along with mountains of curry, white rice, and other freakish looking edibles consuming the kitchen, was an extra little surprise. They left me none other than a dead fish - laying right. in front. of my coffee pot. I have never really understood the concept of "being this close to throwing up" until I lived with these roommates. I was "this close" to throwing up. I don't really need to explain the fact that I don't appreciate being stared at by any form of animal while making my morning coffee - just know that I am literally counting the days until I move out of China town. 21.

I am more than ready to live sans nasty roommates, and though I've wanted to live alone for a while now, there are some things I miss about living with people...people that I love, and have similar cultural habits to my own. It's been so long since I've actually lived in my parents' home, but I still miss the small comforts of living with my family. It wasn't even always about talking - just knowing they were there. I loved Sunday mornings when my dad and I timed breakfast at the same time - silently skimming the paper and draining the coffee pot together. There was something so calming about falling asleep for an afternoon nap on the living room couch, with the muffled sounds of my mom cooking dinner coming from the kitchen. And there was nothing that my siblings most likely secretly loathed more than me crawling into their laps while they were trying to relax, or having to publicly hold my hand or escort me by the arm as if I was some sort of royalty. Which I should be. But what they don't realize is that those small comforts meant the most to me. And they still do. Just the presence of a loved one is a powerful thing. I indulge in every one of these scenarios each time I visit home.

Knowing I am not going to have those moments here, I have learned to create new comforts for myself. When you start a life over a thousand miles from home, you cannot be afraid to do things on your own. It may initially seem awkward and uncomfortable, but you'll find yourself able to appreciate a different kind of comfort - the comfort of being secure by yourself. For example, I am at Panera Bread right now for dinner...obviously alone, or I would be one rude dinner date blogging away as I ate. I used to feel sorry for the people I saw eating alone, assuming they would never voluntarily be in the situation. Depending on the age box, I would mentally categorize them as either a loner with no friends, a crazy cat lady/bird man (childhood neighbor experience), or the last one living in their social group. I don't think I fall into either of the assumed categories, confirming my new found belief that there is no shame in doing things on your own, such as eating out.

I could have called someone to come out with me tonight. Or I could have stayed in and made dinner in my repulsive Asian invaded kitchen. But I chose to go out to eat by myself, because there's something relaxing about sitting next to this picture window, surrounded by my eclectic company, with a soothing jazz saxophone filling in the conversation lulls. Nothing will ever be able to replace family dinners at home, which is by far my favorite comfort when I'm there, but I've found a new way to find my little moments of comfort in New York.  

My bad ass date and myself

 So don't be afraid to go out on a date with yourself.  Browse the shelves of a local book store, take a walk around the neighborhood, or go out for a coffee. It's not only a great mental break from every day life, but you may discover to enjoy something you've never considered before. And once you get over the weird feeling of being alone, you may find spending time with yourself is not as lonely as it sounds.