Honest to Goodness.

I just did something I've never done before.
It wasn't jumping off a cliff, trying some exotic food or kissing a stranger-I went to see a movie by myself.

In my defence I saw Eat, Pray, Love based on the Elizabeth Gilbert novel [that is currently plastering the shelves of every bookstore in America]. If you're going to see a movie alone it might as well be this one. I mean, she travels for a year to find herself, her life, her faith. I actually listened to the book on tape last fall and for some reason it just felt right to see it by myself. A kind of symbolic thing.

I'm reading a book right now called Traveling with Pomegranates by Sue Monk Kidd and Ann Kidd Taylor. It's a mother and daughter writing about a trip they take to Greece and then after, and then Paris. The daughter has just graduated college and is trying to find her purpose while the mother is about to turn fifty and is trying to find her new purpose. After finding myself in tears in the middle of the bookstore while reading the jacket, I bought it for my Mom for Christmas. Their writing is full of vivid description of settings, honest introspection and a consistent presence of symbols. Which is something I love and find myself wanting so much as I read their words. Both buy trinkets and save postcards that are deeply meaningful for one reason or another. And so, loner-movie night suffices as a metaphor.

Despite the whimsical desire to turn this whole thing into a "symbolic" gesture, having a cinematic experience by yourself is just plain pathetic. It's on par with dining alone. Which I have also done, actually. And now that I've admitted to both of these offenses along with listening to books on tape, I have reached an all time low.
Self-mockery aside, let's be honest, we have pity on those we see eating alone. It just doesn't seem right. But, speaking from experience [as we now all know], it's really not as tragic as it may appear. I remember thoroughly enjoying myself eating out alone. I wrote an entry about it last summer come to think of it. And I enjoyed myself tonight too.

It was a fairly good movie. As long as we are on a role of confession, I must admit I really like Julia Roberts. The film also depicted scenes of exotic places and adventures, which I love. The book is always better of course, [even if it is on tape] but the movie held its own. I think however, that the enjoyment reached beyond just a decent story. It was almost an act of defiance...although this doesn't quite capture it. Maybe "coming to terms" would be a better fit. Satisfying.

My single status has become more poignant recently. Mostly due to the fact that it feels like everyone in my life comes in a two-pack. I know this is most likely a grossly inaccurate assessment, but it's like when you buy a new car and suddenly everyone on the road has the same model. I actually made a verbal list of my closest girlfriends who weren't romantically engaged in one form or another. I honestly counted three. Now again, I may have missed a few because higher numbers would make this a mute point and who really wants to gather evidence disproving their hypothesis? Everyone [seemingly] has someone.

But I took a stand against this hypothesis in the form of a trip to the movies totally alone. If I'm honest with myself, I look forward to the day where I no longer question "our" rightness. But there's another honest part of me that is completely content with being in solitude season. I like being able to venture off without a sidekick and honest to goodness enjoy myself, by myself.