Sorry, I Can't Join You For Dinner

For the millionth time, I find myself sitting in a crowded restaurant that's buzzing with laughter... and like a sore thumb, I stick out among all the merriment. I choose to sit by a quiet corner, as if it would make it less obvious that I'm having dinner alone. "Xi guan jiu hao"(As long as you get used to it, then it's fine) , so I tell my students whenever they heave a collective sigh when they hear that I'm having dinner alone, yet again. Well, is it really possible to get used to being alone so often, for so long? I find myself challenging the notion of being alone all the time... with each passing stare as I boldly defy all odds by being the only person to consistently have dinner all by myself. "Xi guan jiu hao" - I shudder.

I sit there alone as I wait for my drink to come. My table is empty except for the plates and cutlery laid out neatly for a table of four. The waitress raises her index finger, asking me if I'm eating alone. She had already asked me that when I entered the restaurant a few moments ago. I guess she's just making sure before she removes the remaining plates and cutlery, leaving just one in front of me. Again, the passing stares surround me. I sink into my chair and sigh. It's becoming a habit lately.

As I'm left to my own devices, I turn my head to scan the entire room to see if there's anything interesting. Usually, when there's something interesting in the room, she's often accompanied by a guy or worse; a group of guys. So, I turn my attention to the television - 'Ah great! Sports news on mute. Time to test my lip-reading skills.' It doesn't take long before I realise I fail horribly at lip-reading. Let's browse my text messages then. Oh, I remember this one from my ex-student - it's the one I read earlier but didn't have the time to delete. I decide to erase it later. I'd better try my luck staring at the table then. My food seems to take forever to arrive when the last I checked, it's only been 10 minutes since I smiled at the waitress. Sigh...

Finally, my 'usual' arrives according to my specifications - no Parmesan cheese. It smells mouth-watering and being on a strict non-carb diet, this is a weekly treat for me. I dive in without hesitation despite the hot wafts of aromatic steam permeating the air. I'm tired and I'm hungry and I just want to enjoy my meal and get it over with. Apparently, I'm quite a fast eater as I'm done within 10 minutes. I wash it all down with a cold glass of lemon-tinged iced water and promptly call for the bill. I feel rather satisfied with my tummy feeling all warm and fuzzy having not eaten properly for the entire day. Then, in a succession of visits, the waitress and I exchange ringgit notes, trading a blue one for a few red ones and I'm off.

The short drive home seems to last the whole night as I sing along to one of Lee-Hom's heart-wrenching love songs of unrequited love. The song seems to last the entire journey home when in reality, I press the 'rewind' button on the stereo at the end of the same song. Somehow, it feels like that every night... every night that silently passes me by as I listen to the sound of my own breath pausing in-between each line of the song.

As I drive my car into the porch, I pick up my phone once again and erase the last message I received tonight. It's the one from my ex-student - the one that says, "Sorry, I can't join you for dinner tonight."