I can’t wait for tonight! For the first time, I will have a 100% attendance. Whoever I’ve invited is coming. Tonight’s guest list includes me and, well, that’s it.
Last month, I hosted a potluck dinner and invited a bunch of people over. George’s wife, Cathy, finally got to meet his ex-wife Jessica, who is now Dave’s current wife. Dave is the son of my neighbor, Bob, who is lusting after my co-worker, Monica. Because my apartment is half the size of a regular New York City apartment, we all had to grab our plates and squeeze in on the sofa together. And then somewhere in the middle of the main course, George and Jessica’s elbows touched! Now, here’s how that happened.
In my opinion, the pot roast was a tad bit overcooked (Sorry, Monica) and I was struggling to carve it. My elbow probably nudged Jessica’s, which made her elbow then bump into George’s. It was a simple case of domino elbows. But, Cathy obviously wasn’t as understanding as I was. I’m not going to get into the details, but let me tell you that George and his face were the only ones who tasted the raspberry pie. All I got at that potluck dinner was a large serving of chaos.
But not today. Tonight I can spread out as far as I want without worrying about upsetting an ex-wife. Hell, I can lie down. On my stomach and on my back. I can cross my legs and stretch my arms. Tonight I can jump around with every bite. Yeah, that sounds fun. I’m actually going to do that.
For previous dinner parties, I would spend hours in the kitchen cooking the perfect meatloaf or chicken or lasagna. And then Cathy would just show up with her ‘contribution’ of chips and salsa, every single time. Since when are chips and salsa a dish? Anyway, then, of course, we all had to pretend that we were so full with one piece of chicken, when in fact, we were actually starving. Not today, Cathy. Tonight I’m going to eat an entire chicken for dinner and dessert and then a whole pie for dessert again.
Of course there’ll be drinks. What kind of party doesn’t have alcohol? I have an affordable (read: cheap) bottle of wine from Trader Joe’s. Now, I could have invited everyone over and split the bottle between George, Jessica, Cathy, Dave, Bob, Monica and I. But it’s so much easier to just split it between me and me. Don’t look at me like that. I’m not an alcoholic. This is a party. You need to relax.
This is a fun night for me to spend time with myself. If I’d called the whole gang over then I’d have to listen to how stressful their work has been or how their kid refuses to eat broccoli. I’d have to chat about the weather and politics and why I haven’t tried online dating yet. Why should I do that when I can just tune into Netflix and hear people propose to each other in pods without ever having met? Tell me, why should I listen to Dave chew when I can listen to the ridiculousness of reality TV instead?
This is also a great opportunity for me to try out a new recipe. Jessica won’t be there to point out how something in my dish is “a little off.” She never knows what it is and always continues to serve herself gigantic spoonfuls of my so-called “off” dish. Not today, Jessica. Tonight I can replace salt with sugar and neither you nor anybody else will tell me that what I’ve made is off (even if it is).
On the invite, I said that we’ll eat at 7 pm but there’s no way I’m going to be done with my hair and makeup by 7. Fortunately, I can postpone dinner for as long as I like. You know why? Because it’s a party for one. Okay, I gotta go RSVP to my own text now.