On Solitude, Small Invitations, and Finding Your Place at the Table
When I walk into a room full of tables, I never know where to sit.
You know the kind of room: round tables, groups already forming, conversations halfway started. There’s a small window of time when you have to decide whether to join a group already gathered or sit somewhere else. Both options feel awkward.
Joining a table can feel presumptuous, like you’re inserting yourself into something already in progress. But sitting alone carries its own discomfort. It announces something you didn’t necessarily mean to announce.
So I usually choose the second option. A quiet table. A seat on the edge of the room. Then I pull out my phone or a book so it looks intentional.
At work, I often sit by myself during lunch and read. There’s another table nearby where several women sit together most days. They talk and laugh and carry on overlapping conversations. They’ve invited me to join them more than once. Sometimes I do. But most days I stay where I am. The noise feels like a lot. The quiet table works better for me.
From the outside, it probably looks like I prefer being alone. Most of the time, that’s true.
But every once in a while, something small happens that reminds me there’s another side to it.
A couple of years ago, when I worked at the college, they held an ice cream social outside one afternoon. People scattered around picnic tables with bowls and cones and paper napkins. I sat down at a table by myself.
A few minutes later, a group of women from another department walked over and asked if they could sit with me. They introduced themselves, asked my name, and we talked for a few minutes while we finished our ice cream.
After that day, one of those women would say hello whenever we passed in the hallway. Nothing dramatic came from it. No deep friendship or life-changing connection. Just a familiar face where there hadn’t been one before.
Something similar happened at the work Christmas party here last year. I arrived and did what I usually do: picked a table where no one else was sitting yet.
Eventually trivia started, and a group of women farther down the table waved me over so I could join their team. We introduced ourselves, laughed at the questions, and guessed at answers. Later, another coworker I knew asked if she could sit next to me. Then another joined beside her.
Before long, the table that started with one person had turned into a small group.
Moments like that always surprise me a little. Because the truth is, I do like solitude. I like quiet tables, reading during lunch, evenings where the television stays off and a book stays open for hours.
But every once in a while, it’s nice when someone looks over, waves you closer, and pulls up another chair.
Not because you asked.
Because they saw you sitting there and decided there was room for one more.
