I’m Going By Myself (No, You Can’t Come With Me)

I’m Going By Myself (No, You Can’t Come With Me)

Written By Lindsay Gould

Last week, after my friends and I left the dining hall, someone casually asked what my plans were for the rest of the day. I said I’d probably head back to my room, get some work done, and maybe go see a movie.

Their immediate response? “By yourself?”

The tone in her voice wasn’t rude, exactly, but it had that slight tilt of confusion, like I’d just admitted I enjoy folding laundry for fun. There was this unspoken question hanging in the air: Why would anyone do something like that… alone?

And honestly, that moment stuck with me. Not because I was offended, but because it reminded me how weirdly taboo it still is to do things solo.

I have to admit that the first time I went to a movie alone, I was nervous. I kept imagining people around me whispering, Is she okay? Do you think she got stood up? But the lights dimmed, the movie started, and guess what? Nobody cared. They were there to watch the movie they paid to see, not psychoanalyze my solo status. Shocking, I know.

The same goes for the concert I went to by myself a few weeks ago. I danced like no one was watching, because they weren’t. People are too wrapped up in their own lives to scrutinize yours. That fear that everyone’s looking at you? It’s a lie your brain tells you to keep you small.

We live in a culture that romanticizes togetherness, where everything is a group activity: going to dinner, going shopping, seeing a movie, working out. There’s this built-in assumption that if you’re doing something alone, it must be because nobody wanted to come with you. As if independence is only something you settle for, not something you seek.

But here’s the truth: I genuinely like doing things by myself. Like, I look forward to it. Going on walks, hitting the gym, grabbing a solo lunch, attending concerts or movies, some of my favorite memories are ones I made alone. When I choose to do something alone, it’s not a consolation prize. It’s me giving myself permission. Permission to move at my own pace. To change my mind. To not compromise. To be selfish, in the best way.

I think one of the biggest misconceptions is that being alone means being lonely. I’ve found it’s kind of the opposite. I feel most grounded, most connected to myself, when I’m doing things solo. It’s in those quiet, unshared moments that I hear my own voice the loudest. No group chat to consult. No side glances to gauge approval. Just me, asking: Do I like this? Am I happy right now?

How are we supposed to figure out who we are if we never get time with ourselves? So much of our identity can get wrapped up in being someone to other people: someone’s friend, someone’s sister, someone’s girlfriend. But when it’s just you, your own preferences start to rise to the surface. You realize you do like going to the movies at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday after class. You genuinely don’t like going out every weekend like all your friends. You’re not weird for wanting to sit outside alone for hours with your book, you’re just someone who enjoys your own company.

Here’s the best part: the more you do things on your own, the more you stop waiting for other people to validate your experiences. You stop needing to text the group chat, “Anyone want to go with me?” before you try something new. You realize you are allowed to take up space in the world just as you are.

It also makes your energy a lot more intentional. I no longer chase after friendships or make plans out of a need to fill space. If the right people come into my life, great. If they don’t, I’m still good. There is a quiet confidence that comes from knowing you’re enough company for yourself. Because let’s be real, time and energy are precious. I would rather spend mine in solitude than in the wrong company. That might sound dramatic, but it’s true. I have wasted too much emotional effort surrounding myself with the wrong people just to avoid the feeling of being alone. 

So go. Book the solo ticket. Sit in the restaurant booth with your book. Try the painting class without dragging your roommate. You don’t need to wait for someone to hold your hand and validate your interests. The relationship you build with yourself is the foundation for every other relationship you’ll ever have. I’ve slowly come to realize that learning to enjoy your own presence is one of the most powerful things a person can do

Until next time,

     Lindsay