There’s a pub a few blocks from my home. I guess it would be called the neighbourhood pub. Prior to a month ago I had never set foot in there because I have no desire to sit at the bar alone. Going to the pub alone to drink is another step towards giving up on life. You’ve reached a point of shamelessness where you no longer care to hide your sorry drunk ass at home. You want the world to know that you have given up on life and you don’t care who knows it.
Since there is nowhere else closer to buy food, I found myself browsing their website. Sooner or later convenience will get you. On Fridays they serve beer-can chicken which I thought was kind of neat. I maybe could have done take-out but I thought maybe they were expecting people to eat-in so that they could make a beer off of you as well. Many people will only eat out alone if they have an excuse such as being on a lunch break. My excuse for going to the pub alone was that I wanted the beer-can chicken. Not that it matters but I guess it does.
This is not a hip pub or lounge. It’s more of a place where middle-aged to old people hang out at and many people seem to know each other. I was wrong to think that only deplorable single males go to these places alone. In the late afternoon there will be a bunch of guys there who come in separately who presumably just finished work. They’ll sit along the bar and bullshit about sports, news and their wives.
For whatever reason the number of lone men at these types of places greatly out numbers the lone women. Perhaps the divorce left the woman with the kid and house while the man at the bar. Men also seem more likely to just say, “fuck it.”