Dinner for one in the time of corona

One thing that I don’t like about myself is that I can be quite smug. I try to keep it in check, but sometimes the self-righteousness just seeps out of me. And before the coronavirus upended my life I was on a very high horse. 

There was a sense of invincibility around the little bubble that I created for myself in Paris. The world that I built and nurtured seemed so safe and secure—it felt impenetrable. I was living my own version of a 21st-century modern woman post-divorce dream.  It was easy to live in this dream world because I had my friends, my job, my hobbies, and my Paris. What I lost at the end of my marriage—companionship—I found in other parts of my life. And then suddenly, overnight, they were all gone. 

All of these things I took for granted, from greeting friends with a kiss on the cheek and laughing with colleagues, to my beloved Spinning class led by passionate instructors. Sharing a rare moment of unity with a Parisian when we were both annoyed at the same person, and simply ordering a coffee at a café and having a chat with the waitress while marveling at the beauty of Paris around me—all of those small daily acts of human interaction that staved off the feeling of loneliness that would sometimes creep in are temporarily gone.  It’s in moments like this the fact that I am living on another continent, an ocean away from my family and country really knocks me sideways. The distance is even more palpable.

I was smug about the pandemic situation for about the first week or so until I admitted to myself how alone and scared I felt, the I had my first meltdown. It’s easy to pretend that we don’t need other people. It’s even easier to give the impression that our lives are perfect and that we’re completely self-sufficient. 

Because going back to New York City to spend this uncertain time with my family and friends was not an option, I turned to what has helped me in many personal crises before—cooking dinner for one. The meals that I have made during this time have been nostalgic, reassuring and most importantly comforting. They’re still not elaborate meals, but the purpose remains the same. 

The repetition and ceremony around dinner for one, albeit small and often haphazard, is a service to myself and an act of self-care that is desperately needed. Sometimes I am tempted to order takeout (and I don’t judge anyone who does! Please support restaurants that are still open!), but I don’t because I need this now more than ever. Like always, my dinners for one help me clear my head and center me. 

Once we’re on the other side of this I will try my best to put my smugness on the back burner not portray too much of a 21st-century modern woman post-divorce dream because sometimes things happen that are out of your control and you’re reminded that you’re alone and, frankly, it just fucking sucks and will continue to be quite shit from time to time.  

If you’re lucky enough to be living with someone else through this pandemic—whether it’s a spouse, partner, lover, roommate or child—kiss them and tell them that you love them. 

Be appreciative of their presence and touch.