A love letter to doing weird sh*t by yourself.
People are terrified of doing things alone. Like really alone. No phone, no fake text, no pretending to check Insta when you’re just avoiding eye contact with the barista.
But here’s the wild bit: when you get over it, the world gets weirdly interesting. You notice stuff. People. Vibes. Cute dogs. Fit strangers. Yourself.
The Café, the Pilot, and My Flight Anxiety
Let me tell you about the time I took myself on a solo day trip to Kinsale, a little Irish harbour town. I walked into this tiny café. Dead cute, slightly too warm, smells like good coffee and baked things. I was hunting for the window seat (obviously), because I need a view.
But someone had beaten me to it. An older guy. Alone. Sat there like he owned the view. I hovered like someone deciding whether to rob the place or order a flat white. Then I took a deep breath and said: “Mind if I join you?”
He didn’t. And within five minutes, we were deep into a chat about aviation. Plot twist: he’s a retired pilot. Trains new ones now. Plot twist 2: I have massive flight anxiety.
So naturally, I grilled him.
He told me about training, black box data and how they analyse everything after an incident like, if someone sneezed weird during takeoff, they’re logging it. He even explained how prosecutions can make it harder to learn from crashes. If pilots are scared of being dragged to court, they won’t exactly open up.
That chat fixed a tiny part of my brain. Now, every time I fly, I think of that pilot.
Also: that convo? Wouldn’t have happened if I’d stayed glued to Instagram or “accidentally” gone for the corner table pretending to read emails. It only happened because I looked up and said HI.
Doing Things Alone = Your Superpower
We treat being alone in public like it’s tragic.
It’s not. It’s elite behaviour.
It says: I’ve got myself. I’m open. I’m interesting.
It also says: Yes, you can talk to me.
Pro tip: take a book. Books are social magnets. No one sees a person reading and thinks, “Wow, what a lonely weirdo.”
They think: “Ooh, what are they reading? Should I talk to them?” (Yes. Yes, you should.)
So go. Touch grass. Unplug. Be a glorious little weirdo alone at brunch.
Will it feel awkward? Probably.
Will it change your brain? 100%.
And who knows? You might leave with a story that sticks. One you think about every time life takes off without warning.
You just have to give the world a chance to SAY HI.
