Indulge in some alone time at Bramhalll. 30 p o r t l a n d monthly magazine portland after dark joaquin malmann I take my time running down the list, pre- tending to look for my favorite IPA. Ris- ing Tide’s “Pisces” ($7) jumps out as a lit- tle homage to my husband. In an effort to romanticize this evening sans hubby, I or- der a draft. An order of fish and chips ($17) tops off the evening, and a special plate of honey-drizzled goat cheese, compliments of the chef, makes me feel especially no- ticed. There’s nothing worse than going to a bar alone and feeling ignored or a nui- sance as couples and groups rake in the rounds. It’s the strange paradox of drink- ing alone: while you may crave being left to your own devices, those little moments of recognition in your solitude can feel like a ray of warmth. Soon enough, a gentleman takes the seat beside me. We sit in companionable silence. We’re eventually joined by a man who looks to be another soloist. These two must run into one another often–their small talk flows easily. Whether they know each oth- er’s name or not doesn’t seem to matter. That’s one of the few comforts of going out alone in Portland. You’ll of- ten find another who needs little conversation and sim- ply craves presence. Plus, you never need to worry about splitting the check. n The bartenders are friendly and go about their business behind the bar with a care- free, steady pace, tinkering with new cock- tail concoctions and singing along to the playlist. At LFK, even on a busy evening, you and your $3 Miller High Life will never feel like a burden. rust and stardust M onday nights are often reserved for nursing what’s left of those weekend hangovers, but some- times Monday brings ailments all its own. Time for a liquid remedy. Take a trip up Munjoy Hill to Lolita for Tapas Monday and enjoy a small plate paired with a glass of wine–all for only $5. Tapas are served un- til 10:30 p.m., so you can luxuriate in your alone time. No matter the hour or the size of your party, there’s always a family feeling to the tiny, scarlet eatery. Sitting at the bar on a recent evening, I notice two others enjoying dinner for one. Of the four wines available for $5 a glass, I choose the most easily pronounced red. I may be drinking alone, but it’s no rea- son to give the bartender any clues as to why. For my tapas, I’m served a sweet little dish of lentils sautéed with mushrooms– just enough to settle the pre-dinner stom- ach growl. Tapas Mondays are enough to make Lol- ita a worthy lone wolf destination, and with the bonus of bartenders who are happy to answer questions or talk wine, one doesn’t feel quite so, well, alone. table for one After a last-minute change of plans, I decide a night at home with two cats and a bowl of leftover spaghetti is probably not what the doctor ordered. I make the rainy trek across the bridge into Portland, knowing exact- ly where this party of one can find a meal without having to worry about small talk. The Little Tap House on the corner of High and Spring Streets offers a warmly lit atmosphere with enough space to slip in and find a cozy seat in the corner. This evening, I make my way to the bar and peruse the drink and din- ner menus. With 14 beers on tap, 13 of which are brewed in Maine, “that’s one of the few comforts of going out alone in portland. You’ll often find another who needs little conversation and simply craves presence. “