csix // chuck dwells here

No, this isn’t a post about being single.

Anyway, i’m not always in the company of heroes. I go for drives, get coffee and, when necessary, dine alone, which I did earlier tonight at some no-name Thai restaurant on Geary, in the photo above.

Dining alone is something I never really thought I’d do, until I kind of had to on New Year’s Eve 2008.

I was at dinner with an inordinate number of Asian friends at a great restaurant in downtown San Francisco. As midnight approached, however, they all took off for their Asian club party. I passed on the event (why pay $100+ to celebrate with strangers?), and suddenly a group of 20+ was reduced to, well, me.

Anyway, the bill was paid and I was lingering to finish my 7th Makers Manhattan before I’d head to the Mission district for a house party.

Right then, however I decided I wanted some goddamn dessert. I ordered a creme brulee and coffee, and it was goddamn delicious.

(Naturally I was using the word “goddamn” a lot after having 7 Manhattans)

I mean, after seven drinks anything would’ve been delicious, but what made it great, I would discover, was the solitude. I didn’t have to yap or tell a story or entertain anyone. I could drink my coffee. And not have to save the best part of the creme brulee for a scantily clad companion (this time, anyway).

Fine dining, up until that point, I’d always considered a group activity. Sometimes, though, all you want is a good meal.

As I sit here in the only available seat in the far corner of this coffee shop, I think back about 24 years to a very distinct childhood memory: being sent to the corner in kindergarten.

We were told to stand in a circle and then make the circle as big as we could while still holding hands. So we backed up. And kept going. As I backed up, I accidentally kicked some really big stuffed animal. Everyone started pointing and yelling “OOOOOOOOHHHHH”, and the teacher made me stand in the corner.

I had no idea what the hell was going on, but there I was, bawling in the corner. Of course, as a child you can’t control your sense of speech as you sob, with some unexplained breathing reflex kicking in that gets you all snotty and sniffly until you’re one big mucus-laden mess. I don’t even remember the aftermath.

I didn’t change a thing, and I was never again sent to the corner. Since I didn’t devolve into a life of crime and extended prison stays since then, I guess it was an isolated incident.

I’ve found myself picking up more and more checks in recent years. Not because there’s a mountain of cash i’m plowing my way through, but because I like the company. And maybe something else.

I wouldn’t call it a show of force, but it’s politics. People will be nicer to you if you pay for things, whether they want you to or not.

Donate to someone’s cause. Pay for dinner. Buy an unnecessary gift. Suddenly whatever conflicts you had recently become a little more buried, a little less important. You move on. And you probably got yourself another mulligan.

Because, really, goodwill is worth its weight in gold.