I just ate a filet so tender I cut it with a butter knife. I can honestly say that was the single most incredible meal I’ve ever had in my 37 years on this planet. The heirloom tomato and parmesan confit, the butternut squash soup, the locally raised filet of beef, the chocolate cake covered in ganache and topped with a caramel orange shard. Yes, a shard. There was a giant spike of edible sugared glass tucked into the top of my dessert. I ate every single bite of that meal, and relished not only the gorgeous canvas of flavors, but the solitude and inner peace that comes from dining solo over the span of two hours and six mouth-watering courses. And a bottle of wine. All for me.

The ironic part of all of this is that the book I finished at dinner was entitled none other than Some Thoughts on Relationships by my friend, Colin Wright. And a fitting read it was for this venue considering I am quite literally the only single person on site.

As I read Colin’s book about relationships and looked around, I felt like I was part of some social experiment that led me, alone, to a place for lovers- a place for couples retreating from their everyday lives- maybe to simply observe and reflect. And what I saw was encouraging- these couples all around me at social hour on the deck and at their candlelit dinner tables for two were delighting in each other’s company. They savored the unplugged time with one another, without any distractions, to connect. It was genuine. Real.

A wonderful couple from Michigan approached me tonight at social hour. Amidst the other dozen or so couples present, I sat facing the woods, book in hand, wine glass in the other hand. And after a short bit, a woman came over, extended her hand, and said, “Since it’s social hour, I wanted to ask you to join us for a little while.” It was such a kind gesture and our conversation easily flowed from weekend getaways to small business ownership, to what makes a town great. It was a real pleasure talking with them, and as I looked out over the peaking autumn foliage I felt like things were pretty all right with the world despite the chaos that might be happening in the rest of my life. Here, at least for a night, I was able to breathe in, breathe out, and let some of that go.

This place- this cottage nirvana in the midst of the fall glory that is Hocking Hills in October- is one of my favorite places on earth. It’s serene. It’s lovely. It feels like home away from home. They treat you like family whether it’s your first time here or your third.

And it’s old school. You aren’t allowed to use cell phones anywhere other than in your own private room. It’s absolutely perfect. If you haven’t been, immediately find a time to visit. If you like, bring a loved one. If you prefer to fly solo, it’s also the ideal place to do that. It’s a place of reflection and tranquility, solitude and luxury, and above all, it’s a place that allows you to connect. Whether it’s with a loved one, a new friend, or simply yourself.

There is a fireplace in my room, and a door that leads out to a small deck overlooking the woods. The first time I was here was in May 2010, on an impromptu, little-known-to-me-at-the-time (but ever so needed) solitary retreat. I stayed in this very same room- the MacGregor- and it rained the entire time, which was cathartic because I could sit and write with the door open and the fireplace lit, and listen to the rain while I listened to my heart and quieted my mind.

Those few days in 2010 were filled with tentative reflection and unavoidable emotion. I found it difficult on that visit to be present with myself and only myself. I didn’t like the feeling of being away somewhere alone- it was new to me. Dining alone (especially so formally and for an unhurried two-hour stretch) felt foreign and awkward. But after the first day or so I relaxed into my circumstances and little by little my hesitation lessened. I listened to myself, I read, I wrote, I wrote some more. I took solace in being here, and eventually embraced every moment of it. And through that process this place became a sacred temple for me.

Five and a half years later, I’m back in the same room with the fireplace and the deck, after indulging in another solo dinner that was surprisingly more serene after becoming accustomed to it the first time around. I now relish being here alone. This has become my haven.

My take-away is this: it’s possible (and healthy) to have someplace or something that you experience once in awhile just for you. But make a point of doing it. Find that unique place that speaks to you. Make the time to go. And book it. Because it’s taking the time away from our busy lives and the madness that happens in the day-to-day that recharges our batteries and makes us whole again. Whether you go alone or as part of a duo- take time to rest and rejuvenate, and seek out those magical places that exist for the sole purpose of reconnecting with what really matters. I’m convinced that this inn was meant for people like me and for times like this, when I need to get back to basics, recharge, and find my center again.