---
title: "How to dine out alone"
url: "https://probablyworthsharing.com/newsletter/how-to-dine-out-alone/"
author: "Marko Savic"
published: "2023-05-07"
type: "newsletter post"
description: "Guest post by Marci Geisler. Marko here – something different this week. I’ve been writing this newsletter every week for the last 6 months. I love that…"
source: "https://probablyworthsharing.substack.com/p/how-to-dine-out-alone"
---

# How to dine out alone

*Guest post by Marci Geisler*

*Marko here – something different this week. I’ve been writing this newsletter every week for the last 6 months. I love that this is my job. But I need to learn to find some balance in this work and remember to prioritize myself and rest.*

*To give myself a week off for some much needed rest, I asked my friend and writing partner [Marci Geisler](https://www.instagram.com/marci_gee1) to put this post together. [You might remember Marci from my solo food trip to Montreal](https://probablyworthsharing.com/newsletter/a-solo-food-trip-to-montreal/). She was the inspiration for taking a trip by myself and dining out alone. She turned her advice for me into this column.*

*I believe writers deserve to be paid for their work. All guest writers are paid for their contributions.*

![](https://probablyworthsharing.com/images/newsletter/how-to-dine-out-alone/dc4ce96a-44a7-431d-8dd4-facae798346e-4d2d28.jpeg)\*Photo by Marko Savic\*

Hi. My name is Marci and something you should know about me is that I ***love*** going out to eat.

It doesn’t matter if it’s a small business fast-casual spot, a dive bar with snacks at high tops, the knowable consistency of a chain experience like The Keg, or fancy fine dining with multiple courses and impeccable service. I love it all. Maybe this comes from years of working in restaurants, both as a server and as a pastry chef, but I love walking into a restaurant and observing it as the living, breathing, entity it is. I love the dance of good service, and the experience of food that I did not have to make, and when the music and the lighting have both  been thoughtfully curated to the vibe of the restaurant. Even when it’s bad, it’s still good in my books.

When I was a teenager my life shifted away from a typical family upbringing. I was 15 when I moved out of my mum’s house and boarded throughout high school in a town that was 90 minutes away. My mum worked shift work as a nurse and we only ever saw each other on the occasional weekend. We would get coffee, go to the mall, and sometimes we would go out for dinner. Whenever we did it was always to Milestones.

Milestones is a sort of non-descript vaguely upscale chain dining experience, like Earls or Joey’s. They have cloth napkins and a cocktail menu. The price point trends a few dollars higher per dish than your average chain family restaurant. It’s objectively fine, but personally nostalgic. I don’t know why that was our restaurant of choice, but it was.

I relished these dinners. No matter what was happening in real life, going out to eat with my mum felt like a special, shining achievement. We were together. We were eating delicious things. In Milestones, we could be best friends, the type of mother and daughter we wanted to be, before life got in the way. Dining out gave us space to be versions of ourselves we couldn’t be at home, where the stress of bills, my school, her work, and our family, was always elbowing its way into our conversations.

It was like this until I moved to Toronto for university and then stayed, starting a life for myself on the other side of the country. Once I’d finished school the trips home to see my mum dwindled to maybe once a year, sometimes not even. I was living in one of the worst apartments I’d ever rented, working a job I despised, and feeling homesick in ways I’d never thought possible. When I saw that a Milestone’s had opened up in Yorkdale Mall (it closed in 2016, making way for the Cheesecake Factory’s Canadian debut), I decided I needed to take myself out for dinner.

## My first solo dining experience:

These were days of considerable frugality, I don’t remember what I had to sacrifice to afford this dinner. I do remember a commitment to ensuring it was a full experience. I went with the intention of ordering a glass of wine and either an appetizer or dessert, in addition to the chicken pesto cream fettuccine I always ordered. I got dressed up. I made a reservation. We were in the smartphone era, but not the social media one, so other than BBM conversations, I doubt I spent much time scrolling my phone. I probably brought a book.

There’s a comforting sameness you get when you dine at a chain restaurant. It does not matter if I’m in Market Mall with my mum in Calgary, or Yorkdale Mall by myself in Toronto. A Milestones experience is a Milestones experience. The ambience. The dishes. They are the same. Familiar. Comforting.

It felt like the height of luxury to be there, I remember looking around and feeling very excited. I gave myself permission to enjoy the experience and enjoyment is exactly what happened. I don’t remember chatting with anyone, but I do remember that when the table next to me got up to leave, one of the two older women who had been sitting there leaned over and told me that she thought I was brave for going out by myself. She said it looked like I was having a great time. I was.

That was the ice breaker for me.

After that, it didn’t seem like such a big deal to go out alone. I got out of my shitty apartment and into a better one. A new bar opened up a few streets over and I started hanging out there, sitting at the bar by myself or with a girlfriend who also lived nearby, watching Raptors games or just shooting the breeze. I went there for first dates, a comfortable home court advantage for putting myself out there. It was easy, and I didn’t think about it too much.

As life went on and my life changed, I found a partner and suddenly, now that I had someone to go out to eat with, I stopped prioritizing going out by myself. Truly, I stopped enjoying the experience of going out to eat at all. In this relationship, dining out became the thing we did when we were too tired and too busy to cook. Later, it became the thing we fought about the most as money and spending became the focal point of our problems. I lost my own identity trying to create a new one with them. For a long time restaurants lost their shine entirely for me as they became a source of anxiety, both financial and existential.

It wasn’t until that relationship ended and I started my life over as a party of one I found myself in familiar territory: I want to do the things, but I don’t have anyone to do them with.

I remembered how it felt to be a local somewhere, how much I enjoyed sitting at the bar and chatting with the staff, and how nice it was to just get out of your house, your head, and go somewhere with a good book and great snacks. So I did.

Nowadays I go out alone more often than I go out with others. I tell people my absolute favorite thing to do is go out for dinner alone. When I do,  the conversation inevitably veers towards the discomfort of it all:

*“I could never”*

*“I would be so self conscious”*

*“I would be so uncomfortable wondering what people would be thinking if they saw me eating alone”*

I get it. It’s a hard thing to do the first few times. But here’s the thing. All of these sentiments about being nervous and anxious about dining alone boil down to what you’re really saying:

*“I’m uncomfortable being seen trying.”*

It’s the same reason we give when we don’t want to try a new activity, visit a new place, or go somewhere we don’t speak the language. We don’t want to be seen doing something new/we don’t know how to. We project our fears and insecurities on those around us and assume everyone cares because we are the main characters of our lives.

But, my friends, the truth is we are more commonly background extras in everyone else’s experience than someone anyone would ever notice.

It’s monumentally important that we face this discomfort. It’s important that we learn how to dine out alone because doing so is an act of putting yourself first. Maybe you don’t dine alone because of your insecurities. But maybe it’s because you would rather do it with someone else, or you don’t think it’s worth it to spend the money on just yourself, or because you want to save it for a special occasion.

I truly believe all of these reasons lead us into living smaller lives than we have to.

When you dine out alone you are telling yourself you are important enough to spend time with. Dining out alone is an act of treating ourselves as well as we expect others to treat us, whether that’s friends or partners or first dates.

We need to set that bar high.

I love to dine out alone because it gives me time to examine how I am feeling about myself, my life, and my experience. It’s an act of self care. Of putting myself first.

I take myself out on my best dates so that when I meet someone new I know I need to have at least as good (but hopefully better) a time with them as I would by myself. But if we don’t hang out with ourselves we can’t know what that looks like.

So let’s find it together.

I want to assuage your solo dining fears. I want to give you a litany of tips to make it feel more natural. I want to tell you about some of my favorite solo dining experiences. By the time you’re done reading this I want you to be excitedly opening OpenTable to make reservations for yourself. Next Saturday we can salute each other across the bar with our pint glasses from our single bar stools and be *exhilarated* instead of *anxious.*

But more importantly, I want us to revel in the company of ourselves.

![](https://probablyworthsharing.com/images/newsletter/how-to-dine-out-alone/5bd945de-c405-44b7-bcfc-b5ff92753c95-8923ec.jpeg)\*Photo by Marko Savic\*

## A beginners guide to going out alone:

### **Get your head in the game**

First of all, you have to start with your mindset. If you think the activity is going to be bad or lame or awkward you’re absolutely going to feel that way. It’s fine to be nervous or a little uncomfortable, but don’t sabotage yourself out of enjoyment before you even get going by fixating on it. Look at your time out alone as an opportunity to do something you want to do, order the dish you’ve been craving, try a flight of beers and maybe discover a new fave. Go to that new place that just opened. Wear that new top you’ve been waiting to wear.

Dining out alone is about pleasure, first and foremost. If you think about your solo dining as a time of possibility and delight you won’t be thinking about it from the perspective of what everyone else is thinking. Remember that we are here to spend quality time with ourselves, so treat it like the best first date you’ve ever been on.

### **The mechanics of it all:**

For this to be a truly beginners guide I’m going to start with the assumption you have never, ever, been alone in a cafe, bar, or restaurant for any period of time. Which means you may have questions like “How long can I stay?” “What do I do with my stuff if I have to go to the bathroom?” “Are the servers/bartenders/hostesses going to be judging me the entire time?”

My general assumption for all dining establishments is that you should stay for however long it takes for you to consume whatever you’ve ordered + a bit of enjoyment/lingering time, but the length of your stay should be largely dictated by the environment. Is there a lineup out the door and the servers are run off their feet? I wouldn’t choose this moment to pull out my laptop or a book and get comfortable. Is the place mostly empty and/or doing a steady turnaround where there’s perpetually a few empty seats? You’re going to be alright to stay a while. Sitting at a bar generally allows you more time to hang out than a table, also.

If I have things I need to leave unattended and I’m alone, I generally don’t worry about it. Rarely do I think someone is going to steal my stuff while I’m in the bathroom. If you’re in a busy place you can ask an adjacent table to watch your things. If you’re sitting at the bar the bartenders are right there and will see if someone comes along to help themselves to your belongings. If you’re really concerned, just bring everything with you, like you’re at the airport and you don’t want your unattended baggage to become a bomb threat.

Lastly, let me assure you that the staff at the establishment you’re at are not thinking about you. They are thinking about whether or not they put in their last order correctly, did they drop that side of ketchup someone asked for, and which of the beers they just poured is the IPA and which is the Lager. You, sitting solo, are literally the least of their concerns.

### **Pick the right kind of vibe:**

At the start of your solo dining career focus on going to places that are lively and you’re comfortable at. Do you have a local bar you go to with friends all the time? Go there. You’ll feel more comfortable being around familiar staff.

If the idea of going out alone really stresses you out, start with going out for a drink instead of a meal. Are you comfortable going to a coffee shop alone? If yes, then think of grabbing a drink alone as the nighttime version of that. Pick a place with a bar and sit at it - it’s less awkward to be solo at a bar than it is at a table. Hotel bars are also great options. Everyone in a hotel bar is on their way somewhere else, so you’re virtually guaranteed to never see any of them again.

Make up an entirely new identity and go out as someone who is just passing through. Are you a flight attendant? Management consultant? CIA agent pretending to be a flight attendant/management consultant? Pick a fake name and go for it. You can be anyone you want.

When you’re ready to graduate to solo dining - you can go one of two ways:

1. Pick an anonymous chain that’s lively, but forgettable. Is it even possible to be self conscious at an Earls? The fact that you’re alone is irrelevant. You won’t see anyone you know and your server will probably be younger than you. Exhale. If you walk in and you’re the only person around, just leave. It’s Earls. They won’t take it personally.
2. Pick a busy pub or brewery that’s rowdy and serves a great burger. You deserve only delicious things, always, but especially if you’re stepping outside your comfort zone. You’ll be lost in the crowd and the music/vibe will provide excellent people watching. Wear flannel, a toque, and a cool pair of glasses - it’s possible that people will think you work there and you’re just chilling on your break.

### **But what do I do with my hands?**

You did it. You went out, and now you’re sitting at a bar or a table and you’re alone. You’ve ordered a drink. Maybe food. You can sit there and scroll your phone but once you’ve refreshed Instagram a few times there’s probably not a lot going on for you to look at. Now what?

Personally, I’m a big fan of bringing a book with me. Reading while drinking a beer is no different than reading while having a coffee. It’s a perfectly approachable activity - if you’re going out in the hopes of meeting single people it gives someone an easy way to start a conversation. If you don’t want to talk to anyone new, a book gives you something to focus on while you pointedly ignore the strangers around you.

You could also bring your laptop and most everyone will assume you’re a corporate junkie doing capitalist things, but laptops and food are not my favorite combination.

Not a reader? Splurge on a magazine on whatever topic interests you the most (I like Bon Appetit and Hello Canada, because I love food, food styling, and prefer my trashy gossip to be royal family focused).

Or you can bring a sheet of paper and write a letter to me detailing how great (or terrible) your experience is. If you’re hating the whole thing, blame it on me, I can take it.

Do you knit or crochet? That’s also a perfectly acceptable activity and possibly a conversation starter, but if you’re not an extrovert I’d maybe stick with the book or magazine option.

### **Practice makes perfect:**

As with all things you’re not going to feel like a champ on your first go around. But the more you do it, the easier it gets.

Do you like sports? Go to a bar during a televised sporting event under the guise of watching it. That’s a low pressure way of getting out of having to speak to anyone.

Embrace the fact that solo dining allows you to step firmly into your Harriet the Spy era.

I can’t tell you how many downright outrageous conversations I’ve overheard or beautiful heart swelling and/or hilarious moments I’ve witnessed as a solo patron. I’ve heard men talk about heartbreak and plan elaborate proposals. I’ve listened to best girlfriends dissect first dates, and (as a group) craft the perfect follow up text. Witnessed numerous birthday celebrations. I once watched a toddler crawl under a neighboring table and fall asleep (the ensuing frantic search for the missing baby was also entertaining, in a “is it okay if I laugh at this?” kind of way).

I’ve swapped hiking stories with a man who was Al Capone’s neighbor in Chicago. Made friends with a group of 75 year olds who love to sit at the bar and chat to whomever sits beside them. My current Saturday hiking crew came about because I was alone at a table with a huge umbrella and an unexpected rainstorm blew in and they asked if they could seek shelter with me. I am on a first name basis with bartenders across the country.

The universal truth is that you’re never really dining alone.

Ask your server how their day has been. Treat everyone around you with kindness and like they have a story to tell. If you’re willing to hear that story, I can promise you that eventually you will be a very interesting person to talk to at parties.

### **When you’re ready to level up**

The true joy of getting comfortable dining alone is that it unlocks an entire world of culinary experiences for you.

I’ve started choosing more upscale restaurants, truly bucket list places, and going by myself.

Sometimes I made a reservation for one. Other times I try my hand at a walk in. The glorious thing about being a solo diner is that you can almost always snag a seat at the bar without needing to wait for a table or having to make a reservation. Last summer I went to a restaurant famous for its 8 course fine dining prixe fixe menu and because I was alone I actually got more per course than the average table of two or more people. It was heaven. I was so full.

Dining out alone at expensive restaurants is kind of like knowing a secret cheat code in a video game. You’re a novelty for the kitchen and if you’re chatty with the staff you might find yourself receiving extra or experimental dishes to try. You get to go to the hot trendy restaurants without having to wait for someone else. You never have to feel guilty if you’ve picked a place outside of someone’s financial comfort. And honestly, the more upscale the restaurant, the more fun it is to be a solo diner. You can observe the elaborate choreography that is a well run service free of distracting conversation.

One last story to leave you with. A few Christmas’ ago I made a Christmas Eve reservation for myself and a friend. At the last minute she had to cancel, but I kept the reservation and went by myself, getting dressed up in a fancy dress and a vintage fur. I ordered a glass of wine and settled in with a book, chatting a bit with the couple seated beside me. At one point the manager stopped by and offered me another glass of wine on the house, which I thought was nice, but odd. At the end of my meal he came over and said they were comping the entire thing - it dawned on me at that moment that they thought I had been stood up by a date on Christmas Eve. Despite my attempts to insist it wasn’t necessary they handed me my dessert to go and I tipped the amount I expected the bill would have been and went on with my night. You just never know what will happen when you step out as a party of one. Going out alone to a fancy restaurant and getting all dressed up is now my Christmas Eve tradition.

I share these experiences in the hope that I can convince you to make going out alone a totally normal part of your life. That you will prioritize Friday nights with your pals, but maybe take Wednesday’s for yourself at your local bar or brewery. When a weekend rolls around that you don’t have any plans you’ll get dressed up and take yourself out somewhere nice.

Once you get over the initial awkward-is-everyone-looking-at-me (they’re not) feelings, going out alone is the best. You get to control where you go, how long you stay, what you order, who you talk to, and what kind of experience you have. It’s beautiful and wonderful and empowering.

Dining out alone is a reminder that you are worth spending time with. You deserve nice things, including delicious meals you enjoy by yourself.

So grab a book and settle in. I saved you a seat at the bar.