Act 4 Scene 22: The Lonely Burrito

Food is one of the defining elements of culture. Especially American culture. We Americans like to use food as a means of social gathering. PTA organizations provide bagels to overtired soccer moms to entice them to come to morning meetings. Student-run clubs order pizzas, often too many, and those who made the effort to attend often get more than their fair share. Friends catch up over skinny, low fat, lattes with whipped cream (ah, the irony) at Starbucks. Food is there during laughs, tears and reunions.

Maybe this is why it’s always broken my heart to see people eating alone.

It’s bothered me for years now. I know that our fast-moving culture often requires businesspersons to grab lunch on the go. I myself have been subject to “lonely lunches.” However, it’s always saddened me to see men in business suits chewing silently while scanning headlines or women reading books as they mindlessly munch on salad.

I always wonder, do they feel as lonely as I think they are?

It might seem as though I’m over thinking this. Some people like to eat alone and don’t mind it. So what’s so sad about eating alone? Well, actually, a lot.

First of all, the thought of people eating meals alone has always reminded me of my dad, who travels a lot for business. Seeing suited men order for one always reminds me of how my dad must sit at a solitary table instead of requesting a table for “cinco” at the local Mexican restaurant.

Inside diners’ eyes, I can see the kid sitting along in the cafeteria with the peanut butter and jelly sandwich his mom lovingly made for him. The juice box, the apple, the pack of cookies if he was lucky. Inside those adults is the kid who was always a little left out. And it breaks my heart to think that being picked last in gym class doesn’t end. That a feeling of loneliness persists throughout life.

I once saw a man eating alone at an outdoor restaurant. The waiter brought a piece of cake with a candle in it and set it down across from him. No one sang. No one smiled. The man had tears in his eyes, and I could only imagine that it was for someone special that he had lost. Instead of sharing the cake with that person, it sat there, the candle flickering. Still lit.

My sister once comically described a teenager eating a burrito by himself as “the lonely burrito.”  At some point, all of us have been the lonely burrito. Instead of talking over a meal or taking a pause in a conversation to chew and mull over what you’re planning to say, we eat alone with our thoughts.

Eating alone makes us aware that we’re getting by. It’s just another meal on another day. Not every meal will have meaning. After all, food is food. Mealtimes can evoke memories, satiation and even happiness. But they can also be lonely burritos.