by Maryann Koopman

Created on: May 31, 2008   Last Updated: February 20, 2009

People gasp and grimace and shake their heads when I mention eating out alone and without feeling lonely.

"I could never do that," she might say.

"I hate knowing that everyone is watching me," he might explain.

Or my favorite, "I always feel sorry for the people alone at restaurants."

If you're single, dating, married, divorced, or still just a kid - stop being silly. Eating out on your own is liberating and fun, if you do it right. It is a sacred time when you give yourself permission to put the world aside and let your soul breathe, wrapping yourself in the warmth of a good meal filled with texture, aroma, vibrant freshness, and of course, taste. Because, let's face it - if you're making the effort to take yourself out to dinner, you may as well take yourself somewhere good. Life is too short to splurge on fast food.

My first "single meal" was when I was 17 years old. I was already working full time as a men's department manager in a local store, a monotonous job full of sameness - same pricing of merchandise, same straightening of neck ties, same soft rock radio station, same bargain-hunting customers giving me a hard time. I still lived at home, had no boyfriend, and all my friends were still finishing high school, where I had graduated early.

Though I knew it simply wasn't done by people my age, I decided one night, after eight mind-numbing hours of retail work, that I'd take myself out to a nice dinner and a movie. After finishing work, I walked down the street of my hometown of Bozeman, Montana, to John Bozeman's Bistro.

I'll never forget the faces of the host staff when I requested a table for one. Perhaps they whispered amongst themselves later that I must be older than I looked. Regardless, they cheerfully obliged my request and led me to a quiet, private, dark wooden booth.

I recall with sweet fondness the smooth, buttery pasta dish I ate that night, served with a healthy sprig of rosemary sticking directly out of the center. I remember feeling, as the flavors did their magic dance inside my mouth, like I was in a little bit of heaven, and that experiencing it on my own made it that much stronger. I am already a slow eater, but that night I lingered over that meal with new lengths. Every detail, every ingredient, was cooked to perfection.

When the dessert menu came, I did not even look at the prices. I simply ordered what sounded best, chocolate mousse with a cup of strong, dark coffee. I finished the night with a sigh of utter contentment, then paid with

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