I would like to propose a new hot take — possibly the hottest take of the century — eating alone is cool, sexy, incredible and girlboss.
Let me paint a picture.
I swipe into the lovely Marciano Commons. I make the rounds upstairs and downstairs to scope out all food options. I pick up one plate and claim real estate at a table, I return to the hunt for food. I then sit down at a table filled with five plates — pop my AirPods in and begin watching Netflix on my phone. I choose to watch “Seinfeld,” then proceed to devour my feast.
Every single day without fail, I sit down in Marciano Commons — which I have affectionately nicknamed Marci — and exit the world of humanity — ascending to the realm of the divine announced by the iconic Netflix opening sound — like the trumpets of angels at Heaven’s gate.
The key to this ritual is that I have to be alone. I have to be completely and utterly alone as I ascend spiritually via food and Kramer.
As a first year, the thought of eating alone was initially petrifying. During the first few weeks of college, there is a tendency of freshmen to cling to the nearest human and form instant friendships — like life rafts — so as not to drown in the ominous state of being alone.
Through my newfound independence, I have come to discover that being alone and being lonely are two vastly different things.
My Seinfeld and Marci ritual is the highlight of my day — the single component that keeps me sane — grounding me in the never-ending rush of the obligations of college.
I love to be alone.
To sit alone and watch Seinfeld, do homework, listen to music, journal or whatever I’m feeling that day, is crucial to the overall quality of one’s day. There must be a time when one is allowed and encouraged to be alone — as a form of meditation — recentering in the whirlwind of college life in a city, especially Boston.
Sophomores, juniors and seniors already know the sacred ritual of being alone quite well, but freshmen need to catch on. Being around others every second of the day leads to neglect in ourselves. It limits the times we can ask ourselves how we’re doing and how we feel.
Neglecting our mental health during the day inevitably welcomes a tsunami of emotions that hits at night — crashing down on our pillows.
Be alone. I dare you. I dare you to go to Marci and sit down on your dining hall throne. Have quality time with yourself. Sit with your thoughts, have your inner conversations — take a moment of self-contemplation today, tomorrow and every day after that.
As for me? Catch me at Marci any day of the week, happily alone, but not lonely.
