Dine-in Only. No Takeout.

I was never quite great at attending dinner parties, but I always loved hosting them. It’s not that I had a problem with other people’s dinner parties. In fact, I secretly loved them and what they represented to me as a young adult, eager to claim the emotionally rich and fulfilling life I imagined I’d lead into my 20s and 30s. But for me, as a Seeker, with strong Organizer tendencies, creating and hosting the Big Thing—the barbecue, the Friendsgiving, the dinner party—gave me a secret thrill and a sense of accomplishment. It’s one thing to show up. It’s another to invest time and energy into an event. To dedicate oneself to making one particular moment special not just for yourself, but for other people, too. Hosting a dinner party, for me, was a way to articulate the importance and the depth of my friendships. Friendships are a thing to have, but they are also a thing to participate in. Friendship is an action, an expression of love. I’ll pour into my friendships as I would pour into anything I care about deeply in my life. Friendships don’t just exist. Friendships are not passive. I am active in the friendships I hold and the friendships I want to hold.

Friendship is an action, an expression of love.

And so, as I got older and had enough financial stability to host dinner parties of my own, I leaned into the activity, finding excuses to cook rich meals, prepare silly cocktails and revel in an evening nourished by the connectedness of my friends, new and old. That first dinner party I held after months of isolation during the pandemic and my own recovery from lung surgery was a different kind of fresh air. I remember making the invites and sending them out. I remember chopping up ingredients and making a multi-course meal. I remember the meticulous cleaning I did within my apartment. But most of all, I remember the long, deep transformative hugs my friends and I gave each other after they first arrived. “You have no idea how amazing this feels,” I said. But maybe they did. Maybe they remember how special that moment was—the coming together, the reunion, the human touch, the joy—years later like I do. I certainly hope so.