Several weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend at a fancy dressed-up party, when the conversation took an unexpected, and frankly, thrilling turn…

“You know, I’m glad this party started early-ish at 6 pm, but my ideal party would start at 2 pm and end around 7 - that way I’d still be able to get a good night’s sleep!” he said. I stared at him in shock before smiling broadly. This is my ideal party schedule too, but I had been keeping this information to myself, afraid I would be labeled an old, boring, party pooper!

I promise you, I’m not: I love getting dressed up and both attending and throwing parties, but the truth is this: lately, my enthusiasm for socializing has decreased. It’s certainly a side effect of middle age - there aren’t many of us in our late 40s and beyond who can handle late nights the way we used to.

But as I thought about it more, I realized it’s not only my aversion to late nights affecting my attitude, especially when it comes to hosting things myself.

There’s something else: a deeply ingrained voice in my head insisting that in order to entertain, I should have a scrupulously clean and tidy house, cook every menu item from scratch, amuse guests with clever games and witty conversation; set the table beautifully with flowers, candles, and all my nice glasses, flatware, and china; which leads directly to another thing I dislike: the big clean-up!

The irony is this: while the voice in my head demands that I entertain at a certain standard, I don’t hold anyone else to it. I love being invited to other people’s homes, and never inspect the countertops, judge the use of paper plates, or expect Michelin-starred cuisine. I’m there for the camaraderie. And I happen to find washing dishes in the company of friends (while sipping drinks and chatting) quite festive!

I realized that the last time I hosted on a regular basis was during the summer and early fall of 2020 - the “pre-Covid-vaccine-era.” We were careful to stay outside, the vibe was relaxed, paper plates were de rigeur, and the tidiness of my house did not matter because no one was going to see it. And happily, every get-together concluded when the sun went down as it became either too cold or too dark to linger.

Now that the risk of Covid has receded, and “normal” life has resumed, along with the unspoken rules and conventions of socializing, I’ve noticed social events gradually becoming more formal and sophisticated - and to my chagrin - getting started at sundown. Accordingly, whenever I’ve thought about inviting people over lately, the mental mean girls inside my head have taken to their loudspeakers, shouting all the things I should do to prepare my home, and that I simply cannot throw a party at 2 pm. And I have listened to them, allowing myself to be intimidated (by a bunch of silly shoulds in my head) into doing nothing at all.

But ever since my friend’s offhand comment, I’ve felt a glimmer of something exhilarating: permission to entertain how and when I want!

Last weekend, at a dinner with friends, I decided to test the waters, casually dropping my interest in earlier parties into a conversation with a couple. Their response was everything I could have hoped for: “Oh, we always talk about how much we wish dinner parties could start in the mid-afternoon, so we’d get home earlier!” they chorused.

And so I’m feeling empowered to silence those voices in my head and entertain my way, using the “summer of 2020 blueprint.”

And while I’ll definitely make sure my guests feel welcome, my house might be messy, the food could be store-bought, and the plates may be paper, but at least I know three people who will show up at 2 pm!