October’s solo dates didn’t all stay solo. A friend joined me for Frida Kahlo, I went to a concert with someone else, and I turned up to a 10k walk on my own and spent the whole thing with a woman I’d only just met. Somewhere in between, I took myself out for coffee and carrot cake. That one remained entirely between me, my Kindle and the cake.
I could start disqualifying outings because someone came with me, but that would be a ridiculous way to treat a month I’ve enjoyed. The point of taking myself out was to stop waiting for someone else to be available, not to refuse company when I wanted it. Some plans stayed solo. Some changed. I still went.
Frida, the woman behind the eyebrows
I knew of Frida Kahlo before I went to the exhibition, but mostly as that familiar image: the eyebrows, the flower crown, the face you recognise without necessarily knowing much about the woman herself. A friend ended up joining me, and I loved spending time learning about her art, the man she loved, her political views and her pain. She died at just 47. There was so much more to her than the image I’d carried in with me.
There was a room of other artists’ interpretations of her work, which was wonderful. I left wondering what she would make of all the love for her work now. I suspect she would have had opinions.
Especially about the wooden spoon.
Part of the exhibition was a whole wall of objects carrying her image. Shoes, bags, cutlery, books, T-shirts, Russian dolls. It was endless. This wasn’t the gift shop; the objects had been collected as part of the display, showing just how far that recognisable face has travelled.
It felt weird, this sense that the world owns her eyebrows and flower crown. I’d arrived recognising the image and was leaving with a little more understanding of the person behind it. Then there she was on absolutely everything. I can admire the love for her and still wonder what happens when a woman’s face becomes more familiar than her work, her politics or her life.
I don’t think she would have liked a Frida wooden spoon. Obviously, I can’t ask her. But I’d have enjoyed hearing her opinion.
We were friends for two and a half hours
I went to the Glow Walk on my own. It was a 10k walk for a mental health charity, and the organisers had a group for people who were there alone. I joined it, said hello to Robyn, and that was it. We stayed together for the whole walk.
She was thirty years younger than me. It made absolutely no difference. We talked about love, work, travel and mental health, which felt particularly fitting given why we were there. We gelled, and we had such a good time together.
For two and a half hours, on a beautiful sunny Saturday, we were friends.
We didn’t exchange numbers. There wasn’t a plan to meet again. It was fleeting, and I felt incredibly blessed to have met her. Robyn was such a lovely soul, and her company became part of what made that day special.
I went home proud that I’d done the walk and so glad I’d met her. I hadn’t booked a new friendship along with my place on the walk. I’d simply gone on my own, joined the group and said hello.
If you’re looking at an event and wondering whether you’d feel awkward turning up alone, it’s worth checking whether the organisers have a group or meeting point for people coming solo. That was how we met. I can’t promise you a Robyn, but having somewhere to start made room for a hello.
A standing date with coffee and cake
I now have a standing midweek solo lunch date. Last Thursday, I took myself to an independent coffee shop for a flat white and a slice of carrot cake. I read my Kindle, people-watched and enjoyed both.
That was the outing. No ticket, no big event, no need to make it more impressive than it was. I wanted some time in a coffee shop with a book and something nice to eat, so that’s what I did.
It’s the sort of solo date I can see myself keeping. I love having bigger things to look forward to, but I also want ordinary pleasures in the middle of the week. Coffee and cake are quite capable of earning a place in the diary without an accompanying personal breakthrough.
And then there was Jill Scott
This wasn’t a solo date. I went with someone else, and I’m including it because it was the best concert I’ve ever been to in my life. Leaving it out on a technicality would be ridiculous.
The woman herself. Jill Scott. A wonder of a voice, a wordsmith, and funny as well. Her music does something I can feel far more easily than I can explain. I’ve tried to find the word for it, and I still can’t.
I danced, cried, sang and lost my voice. It was fucking amazing. I still can’t tell you how amazing it was, which is inconvenient when I’m supposed to be writing about it. You’ll have to accept that I’ve got plenty to say about a wooden spoon and am apparently incapable of describing the best concert of my life.
That was October: art, conversation, music, a 10k walk and carrot cake. I also cancelled my planned PLY outing, so there’s no review of that one. Plans change in both directions.
I’m keeping the midweek date with myself. I’ll keep making other plans too, sometimes alone and sometimes with company. I don’t need every outing to follow the original brief. I just want to keep having a life I’m glad I went out into.
Loretta x
Explore Solo Dates or find ideas for going anyway.
Frida Kahlo’s age checked against the Museo Frida Kahlo biography.
