Going out for dinner alone has taught me a valuable dating lesson

Sitting down in a busy London restaurant at a table by the window, I took a moment to gaze at the sights and sounds of the capital’s bright lights.

I was at the famous Randall & Aubin in the heart of Soho – a butchers-turned-fish-restaurant with walls that, if they could talk, could reveal some salacious gossip. The tiles on the walls were gleaming, the chalkboards smeared with the catch of the day.

Behind me, I could hear couples talking about the West End show they were going to see or friends discussing their days at work or what they had planned for that weekend.

Meanwhile, I rested back into my seat at my table-for-one and smiled, feeling content with my own company. 

But it’s not always been that easy.

Growing up, I felt I had to enjoy nightlife to fully immerse myself amongst the queer community, and not enjoying that scene at times led to me struggling to find spaces to socialise within.

I didn’t know where to find sober LGBTQ+ people, and so, instead of waiting for the right person to go with, I would simply… go. To clubs, bars and restaurants.

But back then, my solo nights out felt more isolating than affirming.

At times, people would judge with idle gossip or turn their heads to look aghast at the empty seat opposite me. Even waiters would often question why no one was coming to join me as I peacefully tucked into my three-course dinner.

There would be days where I would wish I was with friends or with family – or had a partner to take to see the latest blockbuster.

But that feeling of sadness became a part of the experience; acknowledging that sometimes being alone can feel lonely and that’s completely alright. 

As I continued on taking myself out of an evening, I realised more and more about my own interests; what makes me tick, what winds me up, and what I truly care about as an LGBTQ+ person.

A new layer of confidence and self-assuredness settled upon me – all thanks to my commitment to nurturing my relationship with myself.

So when I moved to London in 2015, that was exactly what I continued to do. Work out the lay of the land by nervously taking myself out for dinner dates or evenings out, rather than waiting to be asked by a yet-unknown suitor. To learn what I did enjoy doing with my evenings. 

And because I wasn’t encumbered by anyone else’s likes or interests, I could try exactly what I wanted. From the BFI to the Victoria & Albert Museum, to the coffee shop around the corner from my flat, my evenings out after a busy day at work were a chance to inject a moment of fun and frivolity into my life.

I grew to love them, these ‘solo dates’ around the Big Smoke. Doing research, deciding where I wanted to visit next.  

They became an opportunity to learn about both the world around me and myself – no matter how big or small.

I swiftly realised they didn’t have to be this Instagram-curated, candlelit affair that we so often see displayed on our phone screens.

It can be as simple as taking yourself out for a coffee after a long day or going for a walk on a Sunday evening with a podcast and a flask of tea.

As I have continued to date myself, with dinners out and trips across the UK, I have discovered that giving myself permission to be alone has inadvertently given me more capacity to invite people in; and more specifically – invite the right people in.

Because of course, over my years in London, I have met people, but I’ve known with more accuracy who would complement my world rather than disrupt it. 

I’ve always had a level of contentment about being single, but consistently taking myself out has shown me that learning more about what I enjoy doing on my own is a vital precursor to romance with another.

I am definitely more confident in being single, and paradoxically also more open to connection than ever before, because of the strength in the relationship I have with myself. 

So if you’re contemplating making a reservation for one, or getting that last remaining theatre ticket – do it. I promise you that you’ll have learnt something about yourself when you return back through your front door.

As for me, will you continue to see me out in a restaurant in Soho sipping a mocktail on my own – most likely.

But the space to bring people into my date night trips has widened and that’s all down to my commitment to the most important relationship of all – the one with myself.

This piece was originally published on February 17, 2024.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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