Why You Should Absolutely Take Yourself Out
Alright, by now you’ve probably cottoned on to the fact that I live solo. Not just the kind of solo where the cat’s your flatmate and the plants get names (don’t have a cat but the plants get names), but the kind where I regularly venture out into the world—on my own. And that’s exactly what I felt like chatting about with you today: the fine art of doing things alone.
Let me ask you—have you ever dined out, just you, your plate, and the ambient murmur of a bustling restaurant? If you have, then go you! Give yourself a mental high five. And if you haven’t, well, maybe it’s time to give it a whirl.
This wee reflection was sparked by something that happened just yesterday. I was parked up at one of my favourite local cafés, laptop open, latte in hand—because frankly, their coffee is leagues better than what I whip up at home. Plus, I love that background hum of clinking cups, espresso steam, and low conversation. It’s like a cosy blanket of community and helps me create whatever it is I’m creating.
But then I saw her.
She caught my eye—a woman, possibly around my age, maybe a touch older. But I’d say she was definitely in her seventies. What struck me wasn’t what she was doing, but what she wasn’t doing. She didn’t have a phone. No laptop. No newspaper or book. Just her coffee and the sunshine. She was entirely present, sitting there, soaking in the atmosphere like a cat on a windowsill.
She was people-watching, smiling now and then, simply being. No distractions. No props. Just grace and groundedness (is that a word?) in a world that often feels like it’s spinning off its hinges.
And you know what? I’ve done that too. And sometimes I wonder—has someone glanced my way and thought: She looks happy. She looks like she belongs. She looks like she’s the boss of that corner table.
Because here’s the thing: you’ve got to own it. Whatever it is—your coffee, your meal, your moment. Claim it. The first time you go out on your own, yes, it feels a little wobbly. Maybe a touch awkward. But the second time’s easier. And by the third? You’ll be sauntering in like the café was built just for you.
And let me tell you, other women will see you. Not with pity or curiosity, but with admiration. Quiet envy, even. They’ll clock your confidence, your sense of ease, your refusal to wait for someone else to validate your right to be there. Even if, on the inside, you’re a bit shaky.
It doesn’t matter. You’re doing it. You’re living. You’re showing up in the world as your brilliant, unaccompanied self.
Because truthfully? This world’s a bit bonkers, and no one’s really paying all that much attention. So take the seat by the window. Order the dessert. Bring a book or bring nothing. Just be there.
Own the moment. You absolutely can.
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