By Yourself, by Alice Brine
10 years of saying ‘fuck it, I’ll go by myself’ - time to share what I’ve learned.
It’s 2015
I’m in my early 20s, finishing up a day of work at a tech company in Wellington, New Zealand. My entire job revolves around code-pattern recognition. I have no real experience in this role, yet somehow, I haven’t been fired.
Today, I’m sneaking off early, about 4 p.m. My team fully supports this. They’re rooting for me.
I head to the airport and queue up to board a plane to Auckland. I’m absolutely fizzing. I share upwards of 1,000 selfies on Snapchat. As a gal from Lower Hutt, this feels like an international travel experience. I am a jet-setter. I am killing it.
I board my one-hour flight to Auckland.
Upon arrival, I check into a backpackers’ hostel. I’m in the women’s-only wing, where the rooms, bunks, and showers are all painted fuchsia pink. I apply 73 layers of mascara in preparation for the night’s big event.
A short walk down Queen Street, and I find myself standing outside The Auckland Comedy Club, one of the two comedy venues that exist in New Zealand at this time. It feels enormous, like I’m staring at the entrance of The O2. In reality, it’s about the size of an average Tesco Metro.
I check my phone. I’m a solid 1.5 hours early. I also haven’t eaten.
I make decisions quickly, rather than wisely, so I nervously step into a random restaurant that’s literally next door.
"Um, can I just… Do you guys let people, like, have a table by themselves?"
The waitress stares at me, confused.
"A table for one?"
"Yeah! That!" I reply.
She says “no worries” and leads me to my table.
I order a glass of wine and a Caesar salad with fries. It bangs. Not knowing where to look while sitting alone, I take another 100 selfies and send them to each of my friends individually, all with their own unique captions:
"Pre-show drink eeeek."
An hour flies by. I head back to the comedy club and introduce myself.
"Hi, I’m Alice Brine. I’m here for the newcomer spot."
A man, whose name I can’t remember, responds, "Ah yes, the girl is here."
An honour, truly, to take the one weekly spot this venue allows for a woman.
Backstage, I peek through the curtain. The MC cracks a joke about how women aren’t funny and then calls me up. I perform a chaotic five-minute set that earns me just enough laughs to not quit comedy.
After the show, I befriend a few comedians and stick around for drinks. No one knows who I am. I don’t know who they are. There’s a weird competitive energy, but everyone gets along.
At 1 a.m., I head back to my hostel, fall asleep covered in mascara, and wake up just in time to catch my 6 a.m. flight back to Wellington.
It’s Now 2025
I’ve been doing comedy for about 10 years. My skill set has vastly improved, but more importantly, I’ve gained another unexpected skill as a perk of the job: I’m a pro at doing things by myself.
In the past decade, I’ve had hundreds of solo dinners at restaurants, attended weddings alone, and gone to countless films, concerts, and events by myself. Day trips, overseas trips, chasing the sun, you name it, I’ve done it by myself.
So, in what could be an extremely self-indulgent and embarrassing move, I’ve decided to be vulnerable and start this little blog: By Yourself.
This isn’t A Single Girl’s Guide —because that’s not my experience. Whether somebody’s son is in my life or not, I’m still doing things by myself. Also, I hate the word single. Unless you’re a conjoined twin, literally all of us are single.
This blog is for anyone looking to get more comfortable doing things solo. We all have that one band our friends absolutely hate, this blog will help you buy that ticket for one and go to see them anyway.
I’ve got a decade of experience in the fine art of doing things by myself, and it feels right to pass some of it on.
So here it is.
Chapter 1: Dinner
I’m publishing Chapter One: Dinner as a separate post to keep this intro from turning into a long, rambling document. You can find it under ‘Posts’—go and give it a read!