Solo dining, solo travel, solo everything — the prayer my little queer heart sang and what it actually cost me.
I woke up this morning thinking about this song we used to sing in my grandpa’s church. It was always lead by my cousin who had the most beautiful voice. The lyrics were:
“I’ll go, if I have to go by myself. If my momma won’t go; if my daddy won’t go; if my sister won’t go; if my brother won’t go; I’ll go Lord, if I have to go by myself. I have to go by myself.”
Now in my queer little elementary heart, I sang that song with earnest and full spirit. It was my prayer through high school and college and much of my life. I would go wherever spirit led me…even if I had to go by myself.
What my young heart didn’t realize at the time — and what my more mature heart knows now — is that traveling any road alone can be a lonely, lonesome endeavor. And loneliness can be extremely heavy.
My little queer heart also failed to realize just how many times the Most High would honor that request and just how often I would embark on things all by myself. I have lived more of my life by myself than I have “with anyone” or in partnership.
Now I am not discounting my friends, because I fully acknowledge that the friendships I’ve been able to maintain for years are still very much intact. What I am saying tho is that not all of my friends were with me on all of my journeys, transitions, changes and growing seasons. Many of my friends had to hear about it after the fact because life be lifeing for us all. Just like I know I was not there for a lot of my friends’ life journeys and changes, etc.
As I’ve gotten older and lived more life, I realize that in this phase of my existence, I don’t choose to go many places if I have to go by myself. I’d rather stay at home. Bingeing a show on Netflix, watching anime, playing Diablo IV with my gamer buds or puttering around in the kitchen for no reason other than I can. Sure, I still travel by myself, go on hikes and camping trips by myself, dinner dates by myself, attend social spaces by myself — but those are farther and fewer between than the days of old.
Why is that?
Mainly because I have also gotten to a place in my life where I want to share experiences with someone. Doesn’t necessarily mean someone romantic or like a girlfriend — but someone in general. Not a stranger I met at the spot or location, but someone who knows me and I know them and we have our own little language between us. There is real value in having shared experiences that aid in our personal growth and the growth of others. It is moments like those that are the building blocks of community.
Imagine going to a museum with your homegirls and having a blast. At our big age it is highly probable that at least one, maybe two of your homegirls have kids — and all of you have nieces, nephews or young folks who look up to you. They hear about the blast of a good time you had at the museum and now they want to go. They go, and then they tell their friends, and now you have a group of young beautiful minds being exposed to art and culture and history. All because you and your homegirl went on a random Tuesday.
Sure the same thing can and often does happen when you venture solo — but experiencing things with other people does something so positive to the brain chemistry that experiencing it solo just doesn’t do. I’m not educated enough to speak to the detailed neuroscience, but I have enough lived experience to know I am stating straight facts.
As an eldest daughter, I have grown accustomed to being the first one or the only one to do things. I know the power of having that “get up and go” in you. I remember when my mother or sisters would call me and I would be on a whole date with myself at Maggiano’s.
I’m talking — I got dressed up. I made a reservation. I ordered a whole bottle, yes an entire bottle of wine…for myself.
I would order whatever I wanted and have them pack up whatever I didn’t eat and I would have the time of my life. Sure, people and couples in the restaurant would stare. Sometimes a gentleman would send me a dessert or offer to pay for my meal. One time a white man paid for my entire bill — mind you it was well over a few hundred dollars — and had my waiter give me a note that said something to the effect of: “It’s a crime for such a beautiful woman to eat alone. Your meal is on me.”
I let him pay for it too. Because why not?
I had no shame and felt no pity. Hell, I intentionally took myself out on a Friday night and as the Most High would have it, didn’t have to pay the over $300 meal I was already prepared to pay for. My mother and sisters would be flabbergasted that I had the bold audacity to go out by myself. To travel by myself. To live life by myself.
But in my mind — what alternative did I have? Wait to do things with other people? I’d never ever do anything and life is too short.
That prayer of my little queer heart was sung in earnest. And while I am always going to be so grateful that I had the courage to go by myself…
I’m not gonna lie.
I’m over it.
I’m over going to places by myself. I’m over solo dining like it’s a personality trait. I’m over being the only one in my friend group bold enough to book the trip, make the reservation, show up. I did that. I did it well. And now I want someone to show up with me.
The song was a prayer. The Most High answered it faithfully. And now — at this age, in this season — I’m putting in a new request.
Drop a comment below if you ever sang this song or lived this season. You are not alone — even if you went everywhere by yourself.
Romneka G. 
Leave a comment