For the last couple of months, I’ve been thinking that I’d have to put some dreams to rest. To you, they’d probably be banal, regular things. To me, they’re dreams! It’s like Chainsaw Man! He’s literally me…
No, not quite. What are the stereotypical pastimes of software engineers? Bubble tea with your friends, rock climbing with your friends, camping with your friends, try new restaurants with your friends. Hotpot with your friends!
Well! It seems I’m precluded from the above, considering that most of my close friends are refugees of the IRL world that I met online. That and severe social anxiety. Eventually I start to sneer at all of the above activities, I poke holes in them all.
Bubble tea is an exercise in defiling Hong Kongese tradition. Do you know what a Tim Hortons Double-Double is? Behold; a milk tea! You pay ten dollars for this? You’re paying for Instagram.
Rock climbing is expensive. Fuck you, I don’t have an argument for this one.
Camping is just exposing yourself to injury and illness. There’s nothing good about it. You want to pay 500$ for equipment that you use ten days a year? Sleep in a car. If you want to camp, you can emulate the experience by sleeping rough in downtown. Fresh air, sure, but we have air purifiers.
Also I have allergies to the outdoors and my parents forced me to go outdoors more in an attempt to cure me. That is not how allergies work. I think I have brain damage because of it.
Trying new restaurants is great! Where did you find the restaurant? Instagram? You just want the Instagram photo. The well marketed restaurants are just Instagram-optimized and that’s hardly indicative of quality.
Hotpot is thought of a communal meal in celebration of abundance. You share a pot and all the ingredients. But you’re at a restaurant, paying 20$ for 10$ of food that you boil, in your own, separated, sanitary pot. Isn’t that the epitome of isolation? You’re together, yes, and you try to converse through the steam while cooking your own food, you’re together so that you can separate yourself from others. Do it at somone’s house, at least.
Whatever, eventually I decided, “if I’m never going to do this with friends, I’ll do it on my own”. My anxiety won’t keep these sealed from me.
“For one, please.” You bow a little and smile sheepishly while holding up your index finger at shoulder-level. There’s a little bit of shame to asking for only your own seat. I can’t express it in words. It’s just you, you’re there to enjoy the food.
The food at most of the restaurants were great. Food tastes better alone. You don’t have to talk to anyone, your attention is on the restaurant experience and the food, and there’s nobody to please, except the waiting staff asking about your enjoyment of the food, to whom I flash a thumbs-up sign and a nod from my smiling full mouth. There’s no conversation to follow or empty your mouth for. You can eat and drink at natural intervals, stand up to use the restroom as you like.
Going alone also means that it’s a given that you only pay for yourself. So I got to enjoy some sushi. Best sushi in Edmonton, easily. It’s run by a few elderly people who speak Japanese to each other, definitely past the age of retirement. I’ve been there a couple times with family, but never enjoyed it as much as when I went alone.
Best sushi in the world, maybe. A thought occurred to me. “I wish <internet friend> were here to enjoy this”.
I tried bubble tea and rock climbing too. Both are still good alone. I want to believe that I’m not missing out on anything just because I don’t have friends to have fun with. Here’s hotpot for one.
