The market has finally recognized what I have known for decades: other people are an intolerable burden. The recent "rise of the loner consumer" is being heralded by economists as some grand shift in the tectonic plates of global finance, when in reality, it is merely the final, pathetic whimper of a species that has given up on the exhausting theater of companionship. We are witnessing the birth of the Single-Serve Soul, a demographic of isolated units who would rather pay a 30% surcharge on a delivery app than endure the existential horror of eye contact with a waiter or, God forbid, a dining partner. This isn't a trend; it's a funeral for the social contract, and the vultures in corporate boardrooms are circling with "solo-friendly" meal kits and studio apartments that are essentially padded cells with granite countertops.

The "Solo Spender" is the ultimate dream for the capitalist machine. Why sell one large pizza to a family of four when you can sell four individual-sized, artisanal "flatbreads" to four separate people in four separate dark rooms, each paying a separate delivery fee and a separate "convenience" tax? It’s a masterclass in efficiency. We have atomized the human experience to maximize the revenue per square inch of loneliness. The political classes, naturally, are tripping over their own shoelaces to misinterpret this. The performative Left will tell you this is a radical act of "self-care," a rejection of the patriarchal family unit in favor of "intentional solitude." They wrap their isolation in the silk scarf of empowerment, pretending that eating a $24 bowl of kale alone while scrolling through a feed of strangers' fake lives is a form of revolution. It isn’t. It’s just being alone with your neuroses and a high-interest credit card.

Meanwhile, the moronic Right will bemoan the "death of the family," as if their own policies of unbridled market worship didn't create the very economic conditions where a house is a luxury and a spouse is a liability. They want the 1950s nuclear family but with 2024’s predatory lending and zero-hour contracts. You can't have both, you pinheads. You can't worship at the altar of the Free Market and then act surprised when that market decides that families are less profitable than a sea of single, desperate individuals with impulse-control issues. Economists are now frantically recalibrating their models to account for this "economic force." They speak of "solo-travel," "solo-dining," and "solo-living" as if these are bold new frontiers. It’s actually just a reflection of a society that has become too fragile for the friction of human interaction. To live with another person is to compromise, to negotiate, to deal with the smell of someone else’s morning breath. To live alone as a "consumer unit" is to have a world perfectly curated to your own mediocrity. You are the king of your ten-by-ten studio, the absolute monarch of your Netflix queue, and the target audience for every "just for you" algorithm designed to keep you from ever having to see a viewpoint that doesn't mirror your own.

The truth is far grimmer than the business journals suggest. The rise of the solo spender is the economic manifestation of our collective social bankruptcy. We have replaced community with commerce. We don't have friends; we have "followers." We don't have neighbors; we have "delivery notifications." The economy isn't adapting to us; it’s harvesting us. It has realized that the more isolated we are, the more we need to buy things to fill the void. A person with a robust social network doesn't need to buy a smart speaker to have someone to talk to. A person with a family doesn't need a subscription service for every basic human necessity. Loneliness is the most profitable commodity on the market, and business is booming.

As we move further into this era of the Solitary Predator, expect the world to shrink. Expect tables for one to become the standard, and for "community spaces" to be rebranded as "co-working hubs" where everyone wears noise-canceling headphones to ensure they never accidentally engage in a spontaneous conversation. We are paying a premium to be left alone, and the market is more than happy to take our money. It’s the ultimate irony: we are spending our way into a velvet-lined coffin, and we’re doing it one "solo-sized" purchase at a time. I’d say I’m disappointed, but that would imply I had expectations for a species that considers "unboxing videos" a valid form of entertainment. Humanity has finally achieved its goal: complete, unadulterated, and expensive isolation. Enjoy your meal for one; it tastes like salt and missed opportunities. It’s the only thing you have left that you don't have to share.