I told my husband recently that I’d like for us to have a dinner party for some of the people he works with. There would be twelve of us in all.
The panic spread slowly across his face, his pupils dilated and his voice started shaking. “No, let’s not,” was all he could say.
I didn’t understand his trepidation. I knew I could handle it and was actually looking forward to it. I was searching his face for answers, asking him what in the world was wrong.
“Are you going to buy new furniture?!” he finally squeaked out. It turns out that one of the women in his past always bought new furniture when she threw a party.
After I managed to stop laughing and get up off the floor, I reassured him, “No, silly, of course not.”
“Are you going to put in a new flowerbed?!” he asked. It turns out his mother always had his dad out in the yard for months before any function at her house, digging, planting, putting in fountains.
Not that my flowerbeds will ever get “Yard of the Month” or anything, but I told him that no, we didn’t need new flowerbeds in order to have a dinner party.
It finally occurred to me that throwing a party means different things to different people. For one, it’s buying new stuff for your house, for another it means cleaning house for a month. For some, it is a stressful event that should be avoided at all costs. For me, it’s fun. Everyone’s reaction is markedly different.
When I told my mom I was throwing a dinner party, she didn’t ask about my furniture or my flowerbeds. All she said was, “I hope you’ll hire help.” To her a party means piles of dirty dishes. I thanked her for her input.
Anyway, I finally convinced my husband that it would be an okay thing. The real question I had was … what does throwing a party mean to him?
The next night, this same man who I had to bribe to get Christmas lights hung, said, “I think we need more Christmas lights.”
Drive by. Boy, do we have lights.
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