Friday afternoon, I left work with a plan. I was going to go home, change clothes, eat dinner and then ride my bike to the movies. Alone.
This is not new for me. I’ve always been a fan of going off and doing things by myself, whether it be walking around the city, buying groceries at Reading Terminal, hitting a thriftstore, or sitting in a coffeeshop reading. I like being independent, and I don’t like feeling like my range of activities are limited by the fact that I’m the only one doing them. But sometimes, even I have a bit of a hard time going to the movies alone of a Friday night. In our culture, it is a night to be social, to be with friends if you aren’t with a romantic or possibly romantic partner.
I once had a friend tell me that I had no mystery, that I was so totally open that I rendered myself unappealing. I think that being out in the world by myself, without anyone to engage or interact with, lends me a sense of mystery, at least for the time that I’m out there by myself. (Besides, I actually think that whole mystery thing is a load of crap, as my mom said when I told her this comment, “Mystery is just another way of saying neurotic.” I’m not looking for mystery or to present mystery to others, the world is complex enough without veiling yourself. I am open, I look for it in others and I’m not going to change).
The movie was cute (okay, so I broke down and saw “Just Like Heaven.” What can I say, I have a thing for Mark Ruffalo), but the evening as a whole was really nice. I have to say, it was the best date I had in a while.