Meals With Strangers
It's so fascinating how a single meal can change what a person means to you.
I believe one of the best ways to easily get to know a person is by having a meal with them.
When I was younger and still single, I liked inviting a prospective lover — usually someone I’d met online — to a meal before deciding whether I would keep talking to them. Fine, it wasn’t always a proper meal. Sometimes, it was just over coffee, which, if you ask me, may already be considered one for a broke 20-something.
So here’s what would usually take place: I would ask the person to meet me at my preferred location, usually at a cafe that stayed open until late because I liked going out at night, and we would hang out there. While eating or having coffee, I would talk to them about anything under the sun and observe. This allowed me not only to assess the types and qualities of conversations the person could carry but also their behavior toward me and other people like guards, baristas, and servers.
Speaking of meals with strangers, I have already lost count of how many friends I have so far gained in this life after just having meals with them.
Once, at a writing competition for high school kids somewhere in Lucban, to which I had been invited to give a short lecture on creative nonfiction and join the judging panel, I gained a new friend over lunch. Although we started talking as soon as we were introduced to one another, it was at lunchtime that I was able to really get to know them and thought we could be really good friends. And that’s what exactly happened.
The same thing pretty much took place at the two face-to-face writers workshops I have so far attended: I spent some time with co-fellows for days and bonded with them over meals, and before I knew it, I was certain I’d happily take a bullet for any of them.
I know this should no longer come as a surprise, especially since food has always been known for its power to bring people together. But whenever this happens, it still fascinates me as though I were witnessing it for the very first time.
Indeed, it was the same fascination I had when I had my first-ever proper meal with the person who is now my husband. After our first date, which had quickly turned into an overnight thing, I asked him if he would want to have brunch with me. He said yes, and so I took him to Friuli along Maginhawa Street in Quezon City, a favorite of mine since undergrad days. There, we got to know more about each other while sharing one pizza and a platter of pasta. I think we also had soup and, of course, coffee.
At some point during the meal, I was able to confirm something my mind had been trying to tell me since the night before: I really liked this person, and I would love it if I’d be able to spend the rest of my life and have countless of meals with him while talking about anything under the sun. In other words, even though I was okay with the idea of eating alone in the years to come, I was certain life would be so much sweeter if he and I would share meals every day.