A friend told me a story recently that stopped me in my tracks. She was travelling overseas on her own — she’s one of those upbeat, sociable humans who makes friends everywhere. But that night, she was facing the unavoidably awkward prospect of eating alone in a hotel restaurant.
She walked downstairs, took a breath, and spotted a big group of men having dinner together. They looked warm, lively, clearly enjoying themselves. And in that moment, she thought, Why not? Maybe they’d welcome an extra chair.
So, she did something most of us would never dream of doing.
She approached their table.
She smiled.
She introduced herself.
And she said, very simply, “I’m travelling on my own — would you mind if I joined you for dinner?”
And they said no.
Just… no.
Sit with that for a moment.
The courage to ask the question is huge. But the courage required after the answer? That’s next-level.
Because here’s what she did: she said “no problem at all”, turned around, sat down at a nearby table on her own, ordered dinner, and carried on with her evening. Calmly. Gracefully. As if the floor hadn’t just tried to swallow her whole.
And she didn’t swear off talking to strangers forever.
She didn’t collapse into a puddle of humiliation.
She didn’t decide the world was full of rude humans and she should never attempt connection again.
In fact, she later ended up chatting with a lovely older couple who made her night.
Why this matters: this is Dangerous Dialogue in action
In my work, one of the quadrants in Dangerous Dialogue is Declare — the willingness to speak up, say what you want, or initiate a conversation, when doing so feels risky.
Most people imagine dangerous dialogue as boardroom blow-ups or confronting power. But sometimes the most dangerous moment is simply saying the thing you want to say.
Like:
“I’m travelling alone… would you mind if I joined you?”
That tiny sentence holds worlds: vulnerability, hope, possibility — and the very real chance of rejection.
My friend stepped into the Declare zone with both feet.
She asked.
She got a no.
And she still held her nerve, her dignity and her openness to the world.
That’s courageous connection.
That’s resilience.
That’s what it looks like when someone refuses to let one awkward moment define their relationship with other humans.
Most of us would never do what she did
And that’s the point.
When I tell this story, people wince. They cringe. They clutch their chest. But they also marvel. Because deep down, we recognise something:
Most of us avoid the question altogether, to avoid the possibility of hearing no.
We would rather miss out than risk the sting.
We stay silent to stay safe.
And in doing so, we also stay small.
But growth, connection, opportunity — they all sit on the other side of that small, dangerous moment where we open our mouths and say what we really want.
So, let me ask you… would you do it?
Would you walk up to a table of strangers and ask to join them for dinner?
Would you risk a no?
Would you tolerate the awkwardness?
Would you choose courage over comfort?
I’d love to know.
Tell me honestly — would you?