One of my greatest pleasures is sitting quietly in a café and people-watching. I even like going to the movies alone (nobody to interrupt or bore on endlessly about what the film really “meant”) and I am perfectly happy going to eat in a restaurant, with only a good book for company.
All around me, I sense pitying looks from fellow diners as I eat my solitary dinner. Poor soul; she’s got no friends.
I don’t mind. In fact, I couldn’t care less. The only thing I mind is the idea that, just because you’re on your own, you must be some kind of sad loser.