Book Whore Chronicles: Fly on the Wall

Just before the first meeting of the men's reading group began at Equal Writes, I grabbed a book from the shelves, quickly skimmed the notes on the back and bought it, relieved that I had something to accompany me to dinner that night. I planned on stopping at Hamburger Mary's after the group, but had forgotten to pick something from my own stacks at home before leaving that morning. (From past experience, I've found it much easier to dine alone at restaurants when I have something to occupy me, to focus my attention on so that I don't feel as though pitying glances are being directed at me. Some people grab a newspaper before heading inside. Others spread their office work on the table between plates. I bring a book.)

The meeting finished, I chitchatted for a bit with some of the other men in the group before hopping into my car. The restaurant was only a few blocks away, yet I still managed to make a wrong turn and become caught in the one-way flow of traffic. A few quick right turns got me back on track, and I soon pulled into the parking lot. I pulled the book from its bag and read the jacket notes a bit more carefully: "Fly on the Wall is a sharp comic satire on reality TV and its unerring knack for wrecking lives...." Interesting. Not too sure how it would fare as dinner reading, but I took it with me just the same.

It's amazing how the simple act of bringing a book boosts the self-confidence. Entering a restaurant alone automatically instills fear into the lone diner and most of the time pity from the waitstaff and other diners. Movies like to play up that aspect to make the audience sympathize with a character (i.e., Meg Ryan in You've Got Mail waiting for Tom Hanks). For a long time, that fear alone kept me from eating at many restaurants. Who wants to be singled out? Bring something with you, and it signals that you're there for a purpose, stifles the self-conscious feelings and allows you to enjoy yourself. I knew that this time, I wasn't going to be sitting at the table, stirring my iced tea and trying to look inconspicuous; that I had as much right to be at that table as anyone else did. My book would see to that, trusty old crutch that it was.

The place was almost empty so the host told me to sit wherever I liked; I chose a table by the doors leading to the patio so I could use the daylight to enhance the dim interior lighting. I ordered my burger and started the book.

Image from London SE-1 Community Web Site