I am hosting a girl’s night this weekend at my new home and I am nervous. I don’t understand why I’m nervous, because the group of girls that will be joining me are my friends. I do life with these women and am excited to spend time with them. It’s also the first time I’ve “hosted” an event. Now that I think about it, it’s the first time I’ve ever had people over. In the apartment, the most people I had over was maybe four, for a game night and we all pitched in on snacks. All previous residences had roommates that I didn’t want to disturb, so I’ve never had “gatherings” of any kind. Actually, I hosted once, where I had a group of girls come over from the small group I led back when I worked with youth... that was in 2011? 2012? But here I am, 30 years old and having my first “adult” event ever. I want it to be perfect, because I strive for perfection. I know my friends won’t care, but I do. It’s this weird sense of needing to be accepted (by people who already accept me) and provide a memorable evening. I don’t know if this nervousness stems from my 7th birthday where friends came to bring gifts for and play with my sister, or my 13th birthday sleepover where one guest arrived and left after a couple hours. It could be because I’ve been a stressed ball of wreck the past 12 weeks from school, or just the intensities of life and pressures I feel from life that are trying to overwhelm me. But when I look at the list:
I’ve got the wine. I’ve got the meats, cheeses, and other items for charcuterie. I’ve got non-alcoholic beverages, plates, utensils, etc. I’ve got seating. I’ve got the home. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Welcome to adulthood, where everything provides a reason to worry.
On a fun note… actually, I’ll make that a separate post, because it’ll need space to breathe.
