why this mouse eating alone makes us sad

when you give a mouse an m&m

You’ve probably come across this mouse eating a piece of candy.

If you’re anything like me, this mouse devastates you.

It’s just the sight of him eating quietly, chewing in solace, as he slowly dips his head toward the chocolate that fits neatly into his little paws. To him, that little candy-coated chocolate is the size of a burger.

Alongside the typical accompaniment for this gif (sad piano music), you’ll find me in tears.

To the outsider, this gif may just look like a bored mouse gnawing on a piece of candy. But the first time I saw this, it made me frown into an upside down ‘U’ so prominent that I could’ve replaced any frowning emoji. That got me thinking—why is this fuzzy video of a Claymation creature’s dinner so upsetting?

It might be because it’s such a universal experience. During a busy day, finding some time to yourself to just sit in silence and eat can be a well-needed break. But the “Mouse Moment” exemplifies something we’re conditioned to see as wrong or pitiful—literally eating alone quietly—but something that we’ve all experienced at one point in time.

But is it really that sad to have a moment to yourself? Must we always be surrounded by company to not feel vulnerable?

The urge to avoid the Mouse Moment is rampant, and for understandable reasons. In college, finding a single seat in a bustling dining hall is hard; a group makes that search less awkward, and potentially easier.

I’ve found myself falling victim to this—going at less busy times, putting in my earbuds, checking for potential notifications from the Weather app. But not only is it unnecessary, but it makes people feel embarrassed for just eating by themselves.

But then, I think back to when I did the same thing in high school. Junior year, it often looked like skipping lunch altogether to scroll on my phone, sift through random club things, or lurk r/ApplyingToCollege. Senior year consisted of eating at the table outside of the AP Chem classroom, scrolling through the Activities page on the Common App for the 20th time.

While I thought I was just avoiding noise to get work done, more than anything else, I was just on low battery. Constantly. I thought feigned productivity and ‘intermittent fasting’ was the solution to my problems, but now, I wish I just went downstairs. I don’t bring this up to say woe is me, but to highlight an alternate trap; one that is less common, but equally as harmful as the “come sit with me because I don’t want to be seen alone” mentality.

In the last few days of high school, I finally found myself downstairs with some friends. Passing around fluorescent and glittery pens while signing each other’s yearbooks, I remember feeling like my battery was finally beginning to recharge.

I recall wondering why it took me so long to realize that filling my cup could be as simple as talking to someone else over lunch. A few years since then, after a slew of coffee chats and catch-ups, I’ve realized that isn’t always what you need either. It’s a mixed bag. Like M&M’s. But, at school, the meals I recall most fondly didn’t require much effort.

They weren’t GCal’ed or painstakingly coordinated—they included your friend questioning your decision to get ice cream for dinner; the pasta somehow getting whipped cream on it; and the fatigued, full-day study marathon’s silence being broken by:

“…What a riveting conversation we’re having.”

So, yes, company is something we should treasure and seek. But we shouldn’t value it just for the sake of being seen as weird or a loner, because whether we choose to constantly surround ourselves with company or not, we could feel equally as fulfilled.

I often think of this mouse while I eat alone, but now, I allow it to make me smirk instead of allowing it to upset me. Then, I usually turn my podcast up. That mouse could’ve been tired or had an exam coming up—in any case, let’s just let him enjoy his M&M in peace.