Romance Starts With You: Why I Take Myself Out

I just turned into the parking lot and found a space right up front.
I slipped my boots on and hopped out of the SUV.

I walked toward the eleven-foot, dark brown accent doors. I pulled the handle and exhaled.

I showed up… for me.

I hung my jacket on the rack and took in the room. It was waiting for me, for this moment.

Live music playing.
The bar packed.
A few empty tables on a Saturday night.

I got to choose my table, so I chose the one where I could see both the band and the bar.

I ordered a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, half off tonight, and the braised ribs.

The lighting was low and calming. I observed the room. I soaked in the laughter, listened to each instrument, heard the clinking of dishes.

Every detail existed to serve me in that moment.

And most days, as moms and wives, we are the ones serving everyone else.

I didn’t rush the meal.

I didn’t check the time.
I didn’t feel the need to explain why I was there alone.

I sat comfortably in my own presence, something that didn’t always come easy.

I simply enjoyed and soaked in the moment.

Somewhere along the way, we’re taught that moments like this are placeholders. That they count less if no one is sitting across from us. But that night reminded me of something important: my life doesn’t begin when someone joins me. It’s already happening.

Taking myself out isn’t about being alone, it’s about being intentional. It’s about trusting that I am good company. That my joy doesn’t need permission. That celebration doesn’t require an audience.

When you learn how to sit with yourself, how to enjoy your own presence, you stop waiting to be chosen. You realize you already are.

If you aren’t doing the things you want to do alone, why would someone else know how to come alongside you and do them with you?

Loving yourself first isn’t selfish. It’s clarifying. It teaches you what you enjoy, what you tolerate, and what you no longer accept. It creates a life someone can join, not complete.

That dinner wasn’t about food or wine, though both were perfect.

It was about showing myself that I don’t need to postpone joy.
That I don’t need to wait for a special occasion.
That I am worthy of effort, intention, and presence, right here, right now.

If February has taught me anything, it’s this: romance starts with you. And sometimes, love looks like a table for one.

 If you’ve been meaning to spend more time with yourself, intentionally, quietly, without distraction. I created a simple Solo Date Bingo to help you begin.

No pressure. No performance. Just small, meaningful ways to show up for yourself, one square at a time.

It’s a reflection of the intentionality. I found at that dinner table choosing presence, choosing joy, choosing myself. From writing yourself an affirmation letter to buying yourself a small treat, each square is an invitation to remember that you are worthy of effort, intention, and care… right here, right now.