When I bought a ticket to Residente’s concert in December 2024, I had no idea that I’d also be purchasing one of the best solo nights of my life. Residente is my favorite Puerto Rican musician, and I’ve been rapping along to his lyrics for years. I knew I couldn’t miss it! However, I figured that none of my close friends here were big enough fans to accompany me. Rather than wait for another person’s schedule or approval, I simply clicked “buy” on a single ticket. I’d never gone to a concert alone before and the closer the date came, the more nervous I felt. Will people think I’m a loser if I go by myself? Would I have less fun without someone to share the moment with? Although I had these doubts, I couldn’t bring myself to cancel. I told myself, “if I adore this artist so much, why not just go for me?”
I kept it simple that night: comfy clothes, a good parking spot (a rare win in itself), and doing my makeup last-minute in the car while blasting “Rap Bruto.” Weirdly enough, the experience of getting ready alone felt more exciting than depressing. By the time I stepped into the outdoor venue, I was already smiling. The moment the music started, my nerves disappeared. I had found the perfect spot near the front and as soon as Residente launched into “René” (one of his most personal songs) I knew I was in just the right place. Singing word for word, I got chills when the lyrics scrolled on the big screen like a typewriter and even more so when his mother walked onstage and he broke down in tears. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that I was “alone.” I was just with myself. I was just in the moment.
The rest of the night was pure energy. I teared up while listening to “Ojos Color Sol” since it’s always been my favorite romantic song. During the upbeat tracks, I jumped with the crowd until my legs felt weak. I loved noticing the details I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate as much had I been accompanied by someone: the solos from the violin, the drums, the guitar; the audience waving flags from the different countries they were from; and even the sight of Bad Bunny casually enjoying the show in the middle of everyone else. Toward the end it started to rain and, instead of worrying, the whole crowd just went crazy. Dancing in the rain made the experience feel 100 times more euphoric.
Without a doubt, being alone didn’t mean being lonely. I even chuckled when a random person photobombed one of my videos, and I chatted with him for a minute. But the rest of the time, I was in my own world: singing, dancing, and soaking it all in. The best part of it all was the sense of freedom. There was no pressure to coordinate arrival times, pick a spot, or decide when to leave. It was only me, my spontaneous choices, and the music. I considered it a solo date where I could solely focus on the artist whose work has shaped so many moments of my life. It was, in a way, self-care.
When the concert ended, I walked out drenched from the rain, but lighter than I’d ever felt. I had let go of the weight of stress and worry, and at the time I was feeling nothing but joy. Since then, I’ve been considering doing things alone more often (going to the movies or to dinner, maybe even traveling). Now, if a friend told me they were scared of going to a concert alone, I’d tell them to give it a try at least once. It might seem intimidating, but if you love the artist enough, you won’t regret it. In fact, it might end up being the best concert of your life.