A solo date on a Tuesday

It had been a long day and I was famished. I decided to treat myself and only one thing crossed my mind - salad.

From my experience, people generally find my definition of “reward” very odd. But little do they know how scrumptious salad at this place can be.

My feet guide me effortlessly to this haven. I already know every detail of my order as I have frequented this place in the past couple of years. Well, not exactly this place but several outlets across the island. I contain my eagerness as I wait for my turn in the queue.

My eyes wander to the assortment of vegetables but stop at that. Somehow subconsciously they disregard the meat section. Vegetarianism is an unspoken part of my identity. This isn’t a stance on something profound, but something I grew up with.

I find the vegetables on their best behaviour. They are neatly organised next to each other, almost military-like, showing off their colours and diversity like the army during Independence Day parade. They were waiting to be picked but I couldn’t honour them all as my choices were limited to 10 vegetables.

I give myself permission to even go a bit wild and request for some feta cheese! The lady at the counter clarifies that feta would cost me additional $1.50. I hush down my inner voice and ask her to proceed. I deserve some feta cheese, I tell myself. I suppose self pity and self control have never gotten along.

I am handed the salad in a shapely bowl. I look around and find a nice secluded spot outside the shop. Air-conditioning has never appealed to me except on really warm days. Today was not one of them. I sit on the outside by the walkway where most of the office-goers were trudging their way back home.

Baby spinach dominated my salad but I wasn’t complaining. I had asked for lettuce to be replaced with baby spinach. Not only is it higher in iron content, it is also softer to chew than lettuce.

As I begin to eat, I fail to notice the indistinctive chatter of other customers in the background. For once, I eat without any external disturbances. Unlike the man sitting at the table in front of mine, I did not resort to any videos nor did I text anyone.

It was a very different experience. While growing up, my parents always refrained me from watching television while eating. Now as an adult, I appreciate it more.

I noticed how each vegetable had a distinct texture and crunchy noise when I chewed. I was genuinely enjoying the food.

My meditation is interrupted by a senior of mine from university who walked past the shop. He was evidently amused at my deep engrossment in my salad. Apparently, concentrating on one’s food while eating was no longer a norm. But I was happy to be an outlier that evening.

We caught up with each others lives briefly and he parted ways with me to take away dinner for himself.

I retreated back into my state of bliss as though I was never interrupted. It was the best solo-date I had been.