For the past month, I’ve gone to the State Theatre every single weekend. As a self-proclaimed lover of film and cinema, I have made it my personal mission to watch every new movie featured on the big screen. There is something sacred about watching a movie the way it is intended to be watched, with a large Diet Coke in hand and a roomful of people all prepared for a life-altering experience.
I truly love going to the movies. When everyone is collectively laughing, crying, clapping and gasping at the story unfolding before us, I cannot help but feel connected to something larger than myself. But the crux of this past month is not that I’ve watched a new movie every weekend, but that every time I’ve gone to the movie theater filled with people, I have been by myself.
It started with “All of Us Strangers,” a movie starring Andrew Scott (“Fleabag”) and Paul Mescal (“Normal People”) centered in magical realism. I was enamored by the mystery encapsulated in the trailer and was eager to see it unfold on the big screen. But, on that fateful Saturday evening, I had no one to go to the theater with, as my friends and roommates were busy with the beginning moments of the semester. At first, I bid farewell to my plans of an evening at the theater, resigning instead to spend the evening alone in my apartment eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream. But I really wanted to see that movie. I mean, it was Paul Mescal! So I decided to attend by myself. Treating the occasion as grandiose when it was anything but, I got dressed up, wearing my favorite blue sweater and dotting blush on my cheeks to make myself feel better about going alone. I wanted to feel good about myself, hoping that the swipes of mascara would settle the nerves beginning to build up in my mind. Donning my coat and wireless headphones, I went on my way, enjoying the crisp January night and trying to ignore the subsequent anxiety rising in my chest.
In theory, going to the movies by myself sounded fun — an alleviation to a Saturday night that would have otherwise been spent alone at home — but I was worried about how others would perceive me. Would they see me standing in line to get my popcorn and feel pity that I was obviously alone on a weekend night? Would observers be confused and stare openly at me in an attempt to decipher my motives? But, as I bought my ticket and a pack of Reese’s Pieces, I realized that no one really paid attention to me. To my surprise, as I sat down in my seat, there were other people in the audience who were also by themselves. By the end of the movie, every doubt I’d previously held had slowly eroded. I went to the movies alone because I was lonely. And I left the movies alone, but perhaps slightly less lonely.
I feel a profound connection to the individuals also present in the movie theater with me. How special is it that we all chose to see this particular movie at this particular time? For the rest of our lives, however far we roam, we will always be bound by this one point in time that we shared. It keeps the loneliness at bay and instead offers me the opportunity to appreciate the people around me, with their complex lives, thoughts and emotions that I will never get the chance to understand. I wonder what brings them to the movies by themselves on a Friday or Saturday night, but then I realize that it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we made it and are seated, ready to be transported to another world. That first venture to the movies by myself changed me in a way I cannot fully explain.
Going to the movies by yourself is hard; doing anything by yourself can be hard. Sometimes, it feels as if there is a spotlight on me or a blaring announcement above my head: “Look! She’s here all by herself! What a loser!” But at the same time, it is wildly addicting, therapeutic even. In that theater, with a Diet Coke and Reese’s Pieces to keep me company, I was surrounded by people, yet also solitude. I felt more connected to my feelings than anywhere else. It reminds me that I may be there alone, but that is not particularly a bad thing. And what I love about the movies is that it is truly not a social enterprise. Of course, it is fun to go with your friends, share popcorn and provide commentary about the movie you chose to watch. But more than that, the movie theater is a place to feel separate from the rest of the world while also being enclosed with a group of strangers all seeking the same reprieve, a togetherness in a separateness that is oddly comforting.
Going to the movies alone helps me forget my loneliness. Thoughts of being alone on a weekend night dissipate from my mind as I allow myself to be fully immersed in the spectacle I sought out. As the lights dim, I put my phone on do not disturb and can finally enjoy a singular moment in time where no one can reach me. My focus narrows to the characters on the screen and the popcorn in my hand; I am a vessel in which the stories, characters and visuals pour into me. And there is nothing that I have to give in return.
Let me make this clear: Going to the movies by myself did not make me fully comfortable with being alone. Doing things by myself is still an uncomfortable experience. But in that discomfort, I honed a newfound appreciation for my original loneliness, as it brought me to the movies by myself in the first place. I have gone to the movies by myself every weekend after that, watching movie after movie and taking pleasure in the company of myself and other untethered souls.
Yet, despite the routine that I’ve grown to love, when anyone asks me what I’m doing on a Friday or Saturday night, I lie and say I’m going to the movies with a friend. I feel embarrassed to admit that I am spending the night by myself — on purpose, no less — as I’m too aware of what others may think of me. College is a very social enterprise; the pattern of our lives revolves around being social and forming connections with people. Between classes, clubs and other commitments, it is hard not to feel like your entire life is composed of social endeavors upon social endeavors. Furthermore, if you live on campus or close to campus, it becomes even harder to separate college as a whole from the rest of your life. There is this unspoken pressure to constantly be doing something with other people, whether that be studying in the library, eating dinner in the dining hall or sitting in lecture. I think this is due to unrealistic expectations regarding the college experience perpetuated by the media or feeling like everyone around you has it all figured out – social circles and all. Thus, it is hard to not feel embarrassed and ashamed when you do something by yourself, either intentionally or unintentionally, because of this unrealistic expectation that you should be social all the time.
Funnily enough — despite this unspoken pressure to be social at all times — loneliness persists on college campuses. According to data from the National College Health Assessment, 53.6% of college students reported being lonely in spring 2022, a statistic that surprised me, because I feel like loneliness in college is not really talked about. But while it seems like everyone is constantly doing things with other people and being social, the reality is that everyone still does things alone or is alone on a daily basis. It can be hard to make genuine connections in college. I personally hoped to meet the girls that will be my bridesmaids, friends that I can spend every waking moment with just because I enjoy their presence, people that will remain in my life for years after we graduate. However, most of us are still trying to figure out who we are as individuals and how to operate in a completely different environment than we are used to at home. We meet tons of people, but many of them we do not instantly click with or we see once with the promise of meeting once again, only for that pledge to fade into nothingness. Finding “your people” takes time and is difficult given the changing environment of college: Classes, interests and what we choose to invest our time in are not constants, making it hard to yield permanent results from them. Being lonely in college is normal and, in my opinion, a routine yet unspoken part of the college experience. But there is a stigma about doing things alone that makes individuals, such as myself, feel pathetic from time to time. It is hard not to feel bad when you admit to doing something by yourself, as it’s brushed under the table, which is why I go so far as to fib about my solo outings. I don’t want anyone to know how alone I feel, even if that is exactly what I am.
It is hard to be lonely in college, to feel that you are lacking something that so many people appear to have. But loneliness is normal, and I think it is what you do with that loneliness that counts. So I strongly encourage you, whether you are lonely or simply have nothing better to do, to go to the movies alone. It will be scary, and you might be hyper aware of every glance inadvertently sent your way. But I promise, it is not that bad. You may go into the theater with a profound sense of loneliness, but you might leave with a profound sense of connection.
Statement Columnist Ananya Gera can be reached at agera@umich.edu.