The first time I attended a ballet by myself, I feared I’d hold onto the loneliness of the experience more than the performance itself. Still, I wanted to give it a try—my urge to see the show was stronger than my jitters about being new to the city and having no one to ask along. I’d lived alone before and was okay with doing things on my own, but going to that performance alone had all the purpose and excitement of making plans… it just so happened those plans were with me.
That night, I entered the theater with one ticket and left with a newfound love: the solo outing.
Almost ten years later, I still savor grabbing any performance ticket I can afford, grabbing fries on the way home, and feeling like I’ve stepped into an evening made just for me. Back then, I learned what many have always known: there’s something wonderful about planning to do an activity you love by yourself.
Research backs this up. Marketing professors Rebecca K. Ratner and Rebecca W. Hamilton found that people frequently skip “fun” activities (such as watching a movie, visiting a museum, or dining at a restaurant) if they . Study participants worried about and consistently miscalculated how much they would .
Occasionally, attending a typically group-focused activity alone can make you self-conscious, Thuy-vy T. Nguyen—principal investigator of the and creator of a YouTube series, —told me. She notes that this feeling often comes from internalized fear of being judged.
But are not the same. “Loneliness is the experience of unmet social needs,” Nguyen explained. Solitude, in contrast, is a more : one you can choose. The gap between choosing to be alone and feeling like you have no one to invite is significant.
Virginia Thomas, an assistant psychology professor at Middlebury College, draws another helpful distinction between solitude and independence. Solitude isn’t about being physically alone. “It’s more precise to see it as a psychological state where you’re not communicating or interacting with others—even if they’re nearby,” she told me.
She said solitude can happen when your focus turns inward or to something deeply engaging, like a creative project or reading a book. Going to a concert alone, however, is more about acting independently: you’re alone, but your attention is on the outside—on external events that others are also experiencing in the moment.
Sometimes that immersive quality is what draws people in. Ben Bowling, 26, started going to movies alone in college when his friends’ schedules were hard to align. “If you wait for someone else, you’ll never do the things you want to,” he told me. He noted that watching a movie alone at home is normal—stigma only arises when the activity is public. But in a theater by himself, he says he gets the “full immersive experience.”
Others talk about opportunities for self-reliance or self-reflection. Destiny Jackson, 32, began with short solo trips a few hours from home before traveling alone to places like New York and Japan. “I fell in love with being independent,” she said. “I fell in love with not having to listen to anyone to do what I want.”
That freedom can also boost focus. Meg Edwards, 26—who’s rebuilding her community in her Ohio hometown after leaving for school and work—loves hiking alone. A self-proclaimed “plant nerd,” she likes moving slowly, pausing to examine plants closely or listen for birds. With a friend, the focus shifts to talking. Alone, she says, “I’m choosing to check in with myself.”
At its best, a solo outing feels like a break—a chance to treat yourself to something you love. At minimum, it makes sure conflicting schedules or not knowing who to ask don’t stop you from doing something you’ve been wanting to do.
For Addie Tsai, 46, solo outings are a way to nurture a relationship with yourself. In their 20s, Tsai would go alone to an 80s music club to dance all night, drink bottles of water, and enjoy the freedom of not having to care for or entertain others. Tsai still loves visiting bookstores or eating out alone. “When you choose to do activities alone,” she told me, “you connect with them in a totally different way than you would if someone were there.”
None of this argues against . Relationships are , and many emphasized it’s not a choice between being with others or doing things alone. They’re different experiences with different emotions. Access also plays a role: time, money, mobility, and safety determine what kinds of solo experiences are possible.
In fact, Thomas (the Middlebury College psychology professor) notes that chosen solitude can recharge us. “When we give ourselves the alone time we need, we feel refreshed or reconnected to ourselves,” she said, “and then we have more to offer our relationships when we re-enter the social world.”
During my own solo outings, I’ve also had unexpected moments of connection. Once, I talked with people at the next table who noticed the book I was reading—this led to recommendations for local book clubs. Another time, I spent intermission chatting with an usher about what she loved about her job. None of these were life-altering interactions, but they were small connections, a reminder that there’s always something to pay attention to.
Some of my closest friendships are even strengthened by our time alone. When we catch up, we always talk about the meals we’ve had alone or the carefully planned solo trips we’ve taken out of town. While writing this, I made plans with friends—and then another plan for myself: a ballet again, The Sleeping Beauty, followed by fries on a Friday night. I remembered the nervous excitement of first walking into the theater alone— a performance I’d picked, an evening I’d planned, and my younger self’s joy that this activity was entirely hers.