I was exhausted after a draining week and was looking forward to refilling my energy levels by catching up with some friends. Even though they were running on empty, they were still fairly busy. So, when push came to shove, I packed my tote bag: wallet, phone, a book that I was reading, and took myself on a date. I mean, why not?

Such a glorious endeavour required my full dedication and undivided attention. A friend once gave me a rose quartz (and I was to always keep it with myself), chiding me for not loving myself. Well, there I was, feeling oh so ridiculous as I dolled up to impress myself. The absurdity of it hit me when I went into a restaurant. I was sitting alone, wearing a fancy dress, facing the stares of the people around me. Ordering food was one thing, but eating alone? That took some guts, that too without the luxury of zombie scrolling my phone. I could hear the tiny clinks of my spoon and fork, and the whelms of laughter coming from the table beside mine.

But then, the uneasiness slowly started to fade and I found myself immersed in people-watching. The stares that seemed so glaring before now returned to their own little mundanities. There was an extraordinary boost in my very negligible confidence level when I realized that people don't really care. Furthermore, the respite from not having to rack my brain to keep the unpleasant silence that inevitably enters all of my conversations made my introverted self quite happy.

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Why I prefer solitude

Afterwards, I decided to amuse myself with a little stroll. As I started walking, I found myself held stationary by a nursery that had the greenest seedlings. My inner hippie's delight was boundless and though my wallet was against it, I bought a jasmine seedling. Now the problem was, I was still keen on walking a bit more that day and hauling around a plant with me was attracting confused gazes but I didn't mind. For the first time in my life, I retorted unwelcome gazes with stronger ones, asserting my independence. It worked.

My plant and I then went to a bookstore that sold old books. I rummaged through the piles, and voila, a hardcover copy of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse Five summoned me to take it home. Quite satisfied with how the day went, my seedling, book and I returned home refreshed.

We have been conditioned to rely heavily upon the validation of others. But, just by spending probably an hour with myself, I realized that only the unabashed loving of myself brings forth healing and growth. When we make an effort to gauge the universe we hold within, the outside becomes more lucid, and we emerge as better humans by having learnt how to interpret the intricacies of life.

This solo activity reminded me that for years on end I was the one who was obstructing my freedom by not valuing myself enough. By constantly being under the vigilance of others, we keep losing ourselves. And so, an occasional solitary date is a must for us to reconnect with ourselves.

Mastura believes Hozier himself is a balladic masterpiece. Tell her you agree at choudhurymasturamahbub@gmail.com