by Meredith Siegel Cohen, Creator, Single and Striking Out
It was mid-December, 2015. I was the only one who knew of my impending divorce. I was still married, quietly preparing for the end, and about to attend one more event as a “we” when everything inside me had already shifted to “me.” None of my friends were the wiser; however, they began to notice something was off. I was distant, distracted, and lacking my usual cheery disposition.
Mer, are you okay?
Mer, I know something is wrong.
Mer, are you mad at me?
Mer, please tell me what is going on!
I would share soon enough, but was cautiously waiting until I received confirmation that the divorce paperwork was filed. Superstition, I suppose. Thus, I had to get through one more weekend of events as a “couple” and, sadly, act out a now-familiar charade.
Watching Her, Becoming Her
That Saturday night, my husband and I walked into the cocktail hour of a party, and I headed straight to the bar for a tonic to temper my senses and get me through the festivities. I sat down at a table to savor those first sacred sips of my martini (aaaaaah) when I glanced around and noticed her.
The divorced woman.
Attending solo.
Ordering her cocktail at the bar.
I was fixated.
I watched her make small talk with the bartender in her sparkly blue dress, then anxiously scan the room for a familiar face. She slowly moved away from the bar, circled the room, and then returned—like a horse trotting around a track—still solo.
I distinctly remember thinking: That is going to be me. I will be alone, with no one to talk to, aimlessly wandering and looking for someone—anyone—to exchange a few words with, to ease the loneliness in a sea of people.
Still, I had mixed feelings watching her.
She fricking DID IT.
She got to the other side—and she showed up.
It was hard to watch discomfort (of course, assigned by me—I don’t know if she actually was uncomfortable), but her singleness also represented a freedom I desperately yearned for.
What’s that saying? It’s better to be alone than lonely with someone else?
It’s interesting how things play out. That scenario didn’t happen for me right away. I was quickly dating and entered into a long-term relationship shortly thereafter, so I had a “plus-one” at many events for years.
But now, almost a decade later—I am her.
In the last year, I’ve attended lifecycle events, parties, and charity functions as a solo guest—two just this past weekend.
It’s not easy, but it’s not always difficult. I’d characterize it as . . . .
An Interesting Challenge
I can’t say it’s fun to get dressed up and drive myself—in heels, at night—to an affair. Even with valet parking. And making an entrance solo can be a bit intimidating. Most of the time, I know at least a few others who will be attending, so I’m rarely completely alone. But those people are typically coupled, so at some point—when they’re dancing, chatting with others, or deep in conversation à deux—I find myself in that familiar sea.
The cocktail hour is the hardest part, when couples and friends stand together in cliques, laughing and chatting away. There are some who know me and (I’m guessing) feel a little sorry for my solo situation. They strut over and charitably chitchat for a few minutes—
“You look wonderful.”
“How are the kids?”
“Have you met anyone special?” (to which snarky me wants to reply, yes, let me introduce you to Mr. Invisible.)
It’s all lovely, but soon enough they step away to avoid awkward pauses.
Activities like raffle baskets provide a good excuse to busy myself without needing a partner, but inevitably I become that aimless woman—even if just for a few minutes (which can feel like hours)—strolling around the bar.
Eventually, I make it to a table, where I have a “place” of my own.
I’ve come to realize: it’s not as negative as I once thought. In fact, with the right mindset, it can be pleasurable.
I enjoy chatting with others—ever an opportunity to meet someone new, catch up with people I don’t typically see, scan the room, and observe human behavior.
I play games in my head:
• Guessing which couples are loving and attentive and thus in healthy marriages (which doesn’t always indicate the same)
• Which ones look like they might be headed for divorce (I once observed a wicked fight—and sure enough, learned later of their separation)
• Wondering what those deep in conversation are saying
• Pondering what the ones with interesting facial expressions are thinking
Seriously, I can create a whole drama series in my mind.
Even if the rest of the table steps away, I don’t mind sitting by myself. But it is interesting to see how others react. Feeling “sad” for me, one or two people will inevitably tell me to join them or pull up a chair. Sometimes I go, and sometimes I stay put—thinking I’m silently educating on the virtue of standing on my own two feet (or in this case, sitting).
I don’t want to sound like a martyr. Believe me, I wish I had my person. I can be shy, and it’s nice to have a companion who can spark or carry a conversation with others. It would be wonderful to have someone order my favorite cocktail, hold hands with me at the table, drive me home, and snuggle as we recap the evening’s events.
Learning to Enjoy It
I don’t have any magical wisdom to impart, but I can share a few thoughts on how to make these moments a little more bearable—and maybe even enjoyable:
1. Invest in Your Confidence
If you need a boost before an event, buy that fabulous frock, get the shoes, and/or have a beauty treatment (makeup, nails, hair, anyone?). Whatever gives you that extra confidence before the grand entrance.
2. Wear Your Most Important Accessory—Your Smile
I believe deeply in this. It’s not—pardon the pun—lip service. Smile big, with sincerity, and watch the reaction of those around you. Your smile will light up the space—along with your new glittery getup—and enhance your confidence.
3. See It as an Opportunity
You never know who you might meet or where it could lead. Chatting with others about passions and hobbies, discovering mutual interests—can lead to new friendships, career possibilities, and (dare I say?) a love connection.
Here’s the one thing I do know for certain:
I will not hide from important or meaningful events because I am single.
My friends are dear to me, and my solo status will never prevent me from:
• Celebrating their wins
• Supporting their causes
• Cheering their children
• Reveling in every joyful moment
• Or standing firm with them in the harder, more sorrowful times
If you’ve ever circled the room alone, unsure of where to stand or who to talk to—know that you’re not the only one. There’s something beautiful about showing up anyway. Your place at that event is desired and therefore important.
As for me, if it means my attendance requires just one reserved space,
I will happily take my seat.
Beautifully written, Meredith! I really enjoyed reading this piece and absorbing your experience and wisdom.