My week in Seattle and Portland was an amazing adventure that I can't help but tell people about. Unfortunately, it seems like with every other person I tell, the first thing out of their mouth is, "You went alone?!"
Is that seriously the first thing that comes to mind? I have stories. I have places to talk about, sights to describe. And you're hung up on the fact I went by myself?
My stock response is, "It's better that way! I can go wherever I want to go and I can do whatever I want to do. Total freedom!" That's a lie, of course. But I certainly can't be all Debbie Downer and say, "I had no one to go with me." And then immediately I always recall how every time I went into a restaurant the hostess would ask "How many?" and I'd say "One" and she'd give me this look that was a cross between pity and thinly-disguised disgust.
Truth is, I can't even give away a free ticket to the best concert of the year as a bribe to get someone to join me in Atlanta for the show (even during my birthday week). Of course no one's going to take eight days and fly all the way across the country with me. "You went alone?" What a f**king dumb question.
I might as well get used to it. If I get to do any of the traveling I want to do in my lifetime, I'm gonna get besieged by that question every time I return.
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I like being a "1". But usually the people who would ask 'why I went alone' are the sort of people I wouldn't want to suffer through a dinner or a trip with anyway. Their side of the conversation would be full of inane questions and comments like that. I have friends, but at our age, they've started to pair up. Our friends are less free. Some day it would be nice to collect a lot of interesting "1's" together. We could have dinner parties once-a-week, perhaps every night -- an Inklings-style pub group. That sounds nice. It sounds heavenly. But for now, I'm a "1" in a world of "2s".
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