Whenever I see people sitting by themselves, at lunch, in coffee shops, in the Quad, whatever, I don’t think twice about it. Sometimes they have a book – they’re studying, I shouldn’t bother them. Even if they don’t, if they’re just sitting there, it’s not really notable. Everyone needs some alone time now and then. When I’m by myself in public, though, I feel like people are watching me. “Why doesn’t he have friends?” they must be thinking. “What a freak.” They think I’m sad and lonely, even if I’m not.
Part of it could be my neutral facial expression. I’ve noticed it when I look in the mirror in the morning. When I’m not smiling or laughing, I look pretty serious. Grim, even. My eyes are narrow and slit, my mouth a tight line. I’m looking at it now in the mirror over the couch. Nothing’s wrong; I’m in a pretty good mood, actually, truth be told. It’s gorgeous out, I’m done with homework (minus some preliminaries for an open-book Spanish quiz tomorrow), I just had an impromptu reminiscence session about last year’s B2 in the Quad with some friends, and there’s a new episode of Lost (!!!) on tonight. Doesn’t get much better than that. My face has no business looking like it does. Maybe if I widened my eyes and parted my lips a little. Then it wouldn’t look like someone just died while I’m just enjoying a cup of coffee. Call it a project to work on.
Still, there’s something about that guy sitting by himself in a room full of different groups of friends. People talking probably don’t give it a second thought, but that guy feels like he’s in the spotlight. The solo artist in a room full of cliques. I don’t like feeling that way, so I try to surround myself with friends wherever I go. It’s just dinner, my body needs sustenance. It’s science. For the longest time, though, I wouldn’t go anywhere in Austin by myself. I’d call three, four people without success before resigning myself to going to Wendy’s alone. It’s chicken nuggets at 1 a.m., not the social event of the season. I didn’t get that till last semester.
It’s not what I think or what other people think; it’s what I think other people are thinking as I plop down in a booth by myself. They must think that I look lonely, they must think I wish I had friends to enjoy my bagel and coffee with. Do I? Sure. I think everyone prefers company to solitude. Whenever I see someone glance over at me, I want to explain that I’m just looking for a quiet place to read, that I’m grabbing a snack before a meeting, that Danny and Sean and Tim are all in class right now. I don’t care, and they don’t care, but I think they care, and that makes all the difference. That’s why I feel as awkward as I do.
No worries. I’ll learn to deal with it.
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