Writing at a bar on a Saturday night

One weekend back in February, I found myself all alone with no plans on a Saturday night. And I was thrilled.

I blasted music and took my time getting ready. I did my hair, put on makeup, and picked out an outfit I loved. Then, I googled this cute little dinner spot that had just opened up near my house and saw that not only did it look adorable on the inside, but the food looked great and it was open until midnight. Bingo.

And then I walked out the door, laptop in hand.

My goal for the night was to get some writing done. I'm often my most creative on the weekends, when I can take a step back from the day-to-day and let my mind wander. One of my favorite things to do when I'm feeling really creative is to go to a place that inspires me to write. When I saw the pictures online, I had a feeling that this little restaurant would be one of those places.

When I walked in, the place was mostly empty. I chose a spot at the bar and pulled out my laptop.?

Immediately, the two guys to my left started making jokes in my direction.?

“Oh, so you’re a workaholic,” they laughed.?

I could tell they meant well, but they could not understand why anyone would ever bring a laptop to a bar.?

And they weren’t the only ones. A server kept coming over to me and asking if I was going to be working all night. “Can’t it wait till Monday?” he asked.

All three strangers were coming from a good place. They saw someone who was all alone on a Saturday night, tapping away on a laptop and presumably miserable instead of enjoying myself over drinks with friends.

I wasn’t miserable, though. I was exactly where I wanted to be, doing exactly what I wanted to do. It was the perfect night for me.

Even though I was doing what I wanted to be doing, after a while, their comments started to get to me. I felt a little bit of “work shame”—like I shouldn't be working while everyone else was having fun on a Saturday night.

I had to remind myself that I was there for me. I left my house excited and inspired, and I really wanted to spend my night writing. So I ignored their jokes, and that’s what I did: I sat at that bar until 11 p.m. While I wrote, I enjoyed steak frites, a nice glass of red wine, and good music in my headphones. I felt like I tapped into my creativity, and I did the thing that I really wanted to do. I left feeling dang good.

The experience made me reflect on the fact that there are people who like working 9-to-5, give or take, and I love that for them. But that's not me.

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