Skip to main content

I Am Not Alone. I Am a Party of One.

I get that a lot... “Aren’t you lonely?” Should I be lonely? I live alone. I travel alone. I eat alone, even at the finest restaurants. I go to bars alone, although it's rare. I go to the opera alone. I see plays alone. I go to concerts alone. Not always alone, but I am comfortable being alone... Go, seek, and do it alone. When something I want to do pops up, my instinct is to do it. I rarely have that moment when I am like... “I need to find someone to do it with.” When I invite others to join me, their presence isn't often required unless you know... it requires a minimum of two people. Rare, but it happens.

Lunch for one at KinKan

That word, alone, is misleading. Isn't it? Perhaps, it is how we've been taught to understand that “alone” means lonely and thus unhappy. Is it unhealthy that I prefer the company of none, often a book at a restaurant, rather than a human?

It is healthier than being in a relationship because of the fear of being alone, often clawing to justify misery. We all have at least one person in our lives. We want to shake them until they come to their senses. Perhaps, not their senses, but for them to muster enough courage or confidence to leave their unhealthy relationship. Not abusive, but unhealthy nonetheless.


Not enough courage or confidence... We tend to make unhealthy choices wrapped in anxiety. Once again, clawing at the reasons to hold onto what is, rather than looking forward to opportunities to experience something new and different. Dare I say, someone better.

It took me years and countless unhealthy encounters after the divorce to realize that I needed time alone, to be alone, and to be okay with being alone. And it took years after realizing that to be perfectly fine with myself. My worth is measured only by me and no one else. My life, moments... No one is responsible for my feelings, emotions, and mental health because where my emotions remain after being affected by others is my choice. Can a life easily hindered by others be a life of our own?

I don't like that word, alone, to describe my life. I am not alone. I have me. I relish life. I've had my share of dark and low moments, but life's fluidity has also brought me exhilarating and tender moments. Most importantly, it has brought me repose in my perspective on life and serenity in myself. My life feels irreproachable, neither perfect nor grand, yet a fête of my own.

So when folks ask me if I am alone, I now respond that I am a party of one.

_____
More essays:

ESSAYS | RECIPES | STYLES | IG

Articles sélectionnés
I earn commission on qualified purchases.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Haemul Pajeon, Korean Seafood Green Onion Pancake

Whoever coined the phrase “bigger is better” clearly never consulted a five-foot-three-inch woman. I have long maintained that fabulousity often comes in small packages. There are exceptions, of course, and Haemul Pajeon, the Korean Seafood Green Onion Pancake, makes a rather delicious case for abandoning my principles. When it comes to this Korean favorite, thickness is everything. Packed with shrimp, squid, green onions, zucchini, and yellow onions, these savory pancakes are a glorious celebration of excess, at least where ingredients are concerned. While many recipes favor thinner pancakes or arrange the ingredients neatly on top, there is a reason the thicker, generously stuffed versions served at Korean restaurants have gone viral. With their crisp, deeply browned exteriors giving way to tender, seafood-packed interiors, they deliver a combination of flavor and texture that thinner versions simply cannot match. Sometimes, bigger really is better. Or, in this case, thicker. INGREDI...

The Art of Calabrian Chicken

I spent yesterday afternoon at the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art. Newly opened last month after years of anticipation, it was a visit I approached with some hesitation. My disappointment with LACMA's David Geffen Galleries earlier this year had yet to settle. I felt as though I had wandered into a fabulous space where art and artifacts had been arranged without much intention, without stories to tell, rather like an art fair with booths. I carried that impression with me as I prepared to visit the Lucas Museum. After the Prom by Norman Rockwell I knew I would be mesmerized by its architecture. What surprised me was the storytelling within. I hadn't expected Norman Rockwell's gallery to captivate me quite as much as it did. There was something profoundly beautiful about the smallness of life he portrayed, the ordinary moments of family, childhood, and everyday rituals elevated into something worthy of our attention. Rockwell's America was often idealized, certainly, bu...

12 Timeless Sweaters

Somewhere in my closet is a black cashmere sweater I picked up at a sample sale well over a decade ago. It is asymmetric, beautifully understated, and now held together in a few places by my own handiwork: a needle, black thread, and the firm conviction that some things are simply worth saving. I have mended it rather than replaced it, not because black cashmere sweaters are particularly difficult to find, but because this particular one is impossible to replace. at The Geffen Contemporary at MOCA At this point, it has become something of a comfort sweater. The sort I reach for when I want to feel entirely like myself, without the fuss of getting dressed and with all the pleasure of looking effortlessly put together. Fashion has a remarkable talent for convincing us that last season's treasures are this season's embarrassments. My old cashmere sweater has spent more than a decade making a rather persuasive argument to the contrary. It has survived changing trends, wardrobe purg...

Fire Nakji and Red Bell Pepper

On my last trip to the Hollywood Farmers Market, I picked up a gorgeous organic heirloom red bell pepper. I had planned to slice it into sandwiches, but plans shifted. Instead, I recipe-tested it with baby octopus, aka Octopus minor. That heirloom pepper, with its natural sweetness, balanced the heat of Korean red pepper flakes beautifully. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. Typically found in the waters surrounding Eastern China, Japan, and the Korean Peninsula, baby octopus are known for their petite bodies and long arms. They are readily available at Korean grocery stores, either fresh at the seafood counter or cleaned and frozen. Served over black rice, this makes for a quick-fire meal with just enough drama. INGREDIENTS [two servings with cooked black rice] eight ounces of baby octopus, aka Octopus minor, cleaned and cut two garlic cloves, sliced one red heirloom bell pepper, roughly sliced one tablespoon of ginger, finely minced one twig of mint, roughly cut four bas...

Mongolian Beef

Mongolian Beef is my all-time favorite Chinese dish—savory, slightly sweet, garlicky, and finished with that irresistible glossy sauce that clings to every slice of beef. Despite its name, the dish isn’t from Mongolia at all; it’s a Chinese-American creation inspired by flavors and cooking techniques from northern China, popularized in Chinese restaurants in the United States. The combination of tender sliced beef, aromatics like ginger and garlic, and a rich soy-based sauce makes it both comforting and bold, the kind of dish that feels special yet familiar every time it’s served. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me. INGREDIENTS [serves 3 to 4 as a main course] one pound of boneless ribeye steak, sliced one and a half tablespoons of cornstarch two tablespoons of Tamari soy sauce two tablespoons of vegetable oil one tablespoon of cooking Michiu two teaspoons of oyster sauce two teaspoons of Sriracha sauce one tablespoon of roughly chopped ginger two garlic cloves, sli...

Style Capsule: All Black

When Coco Chanel introduced her little black dress in 1926, she did more than offer women another wardrobe option. She helped transform a color long associated with mourning and solemnity into a symbol of modern elegance, independence, and sophistication. American Vogue famously compared the deceptively simple design to Ford's Model T, recognizing its potential to become a universal fashion essential. Nearly a century later, the little black dress remains indispensable, although Chanel deserves credit not only for perfecting the little black dress, but for recognizing that its greatest luxury was its simplicity. Women in Tub by Wayne Thiebaud Black's relationship with fashion, however, stretches much further back than Chanel's timeless silhouette. During the Renaissance, achieving a rich, consistent black required expensive dyes and considerable craftsmanship, making the color a conspicuous declaration of wealth and privilege. European monarchs and aristocrats adopted black...

Please Normalize Sex

I couldn't help feeling that Shane Gillis's monologue on the October 10 episode of Saturday Night Live was a stab at the alleged victim of the Cornell University gang rape case and the uproar surrounding it. Of course, I have no idea what he intended, other than to be funny, when he said, “I haven't been to the gym in so long, I didn't know women just dress like whores now?” But the joke played into a familiar narrative, one in which women's clothing and sexuality become measures of their character, and sometimes even their credibility. With Jane Doe and her attorney reportedly receiving death threats amid the controversy, the timing struck me as particularly distasteful. at LACMA Perhaps my problem is that there was simply nothing funny about it. Not because he called women whores, but because the joke failed to land. Strip away the provocation, and what remains? A rather pedestrian observation about women's gym attire, masquerading as comedy. Very weak. I get...

Fiercely Chic in Leather

Long before leather became synonymous with rebellion and sex appeal, it was a marker of wealth and social standing. In eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Europe, finely crafted leather gloves were indispensable accessories for women of privilege, signaling refinement and the luxury of hands unaccustomed to manual labor. How amusing that a material once associated with proper etiquette would eventually become one of fashion's most provocative expressions of independence. Leather, it seems, has always understood the importance of making an impression, even as its definition of good manners has changed rather dramatically. Paris, France By the twentieth century, leather had shed much of its polite disposition. Yves Saint Laurent brought motorcycle-inspired rebellion into the hallowed world of Christian Dior in 1960, while Vivienne Westwood later embraced leather's more subversive possibilities through punk and fetish-inspired fashion. Azzedine Alaïa sculpted it around the femal...

Surf & Turf Fried Rice

Growing up, fried rice was a staple in our home. My mother served it with yellow radish pickles and kimchi, sometimes crowned with a fried egg. On certain days it appeared a little fancier—tucked neatly inside an omelet, or my personal favorite, stuffed into inari age, those seasoned fried tofu pouches that soak up every grain. Ceramic bowl was wheel-thrown and glazed by me Fried rice exists in many forms across Asia—China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, and Vietnam, to name only a few—each with its own techniques, flavors, and traditions. I cannot say that my version belongs squarely to any one of them. It began with the flavors and instincts of Korean-style fried rice, but over time it evolved, influenced by my Chinese-Hungarian-American ex-husband and the ingredients commonly found in American kitchens: leftover ham, jalapeño, and calabacita. This version leans into a playful idea of surf and turf—shrimp representing the sea and ham representing the land—folded together into a wok of rice ...

Are We Ready for the Truth? I’m Fat.

I am fat. That is neither a confession nor a plea for reassurance. It is not coded self-loathing nor an invitation for affirmation. It is a description of my body. Yet the moment I say it aloud, people rush to correct me, as though I have misidentified myself. “You’re not fat,” they insist, with the urgency of someone extinguishing a small fire. The discomfort is not mine. It is theirs. Las Alcobas Hotel Staircase, Mexico City, Mexico Fat is not an identity. It is not a character assessment or a moral condition. It is a descriptor of a body. The body is a vessel that carries who we are; it is not the entirety of who we are. When I describe my body as fat, I am not reducing myself. I am describing the state of the vessel. We have constructed a culture in which self-acceptance is treated as a moral virtue—but only when it follows approved language. Love your body, we are told, but do not describe it in ways that unsettle others. Do not call yourself fat unless you meet some publicly agre...