one.

So on Friday, after being called "mommy" no less than ten times, and feeling like a big germy mess, I desperately wanted a margarita.

anyway, I had plans with a new friend who had to cancel so I figured is proceed with my happy hour plans on my own. I hopped on a bus and began one of what I hope to be many nyc happy hour adventures. I went to my friends place of employment and stuffed myself full of two margaritas and guacamole, and an interesting thought occurred to me: I was alone, but I wasn't lonely.The whole place had filled up around me, with groups it couples, so close to me that I actually scootched my chair over a little to the left so we wouldn't bump elbows, but I was alone. 

And you know what? I really didn't mind it. I caught up with friends via text, I read a book, I people watched, I talked myself into ordering a quesadilla, and I wrote a lovely, thought provoking margarita induced post which I later lost somewhere between hitting "save draft" and attempting to hail a taxi on my own for the first time ever. 

I'm not a stranger to solo activities. I haven't quite mastered going to the movies on my own but I've got shopping, dining, and road tripping down pat. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe being able to recognize a friendship within myself is another blessing to count on Sundays.