The Things You Do

I accidentally signed up to have dinner with seven strangers on Saturday night.

Let me back up: a few weeks ago, I emailed the membership coordinator and asked to join. . .let's call it My Religion Singles Group. . .at the church I grew up attending. The group volunteers for several charities the church supports (meals on wheels type groups, Capital Area Food Bank, etc.) and has regular social activities. The MRSG is one of two groups for non-married people at the church; the other is for an age group I'm a couple of years beyond. I thought it might be an opportunity to meet people and have a little bit more of a social life. (Let's make that A social life instead of Practically None.) Okay, who am I kidding? I thought perhaps there might be a tall, kind, handsome, funny fella near my age in the group who wants to marry me and have children, so I should probably go ahead and open myself up to meeting him.

Since I joined, MRSG has had two events that I've skipped. One was a housewarming party at a member's new house. It seemed weird to me to show up and meet people for the first time at someone's housewarming party. The next event was a planning meeting for future MRSG events. I debated about attending that one--I am quite the planner, both personally and professionally, so it seemed like I might fit right in. But. . .I thought it would be weird to show up to plan future events for a group where I don't know anyone and that I don't even know if I really want to belong. This would be where "seems weird" equals "feels uncomfortable" because I am actually quite shy and also holy crap could this lead to dating which is nice in theory but also means that some dude might see me naked eventually. And only one dude has seen me naked in the last, ohhh, ten(ish) years. (Of course that guy hasn't seen me naked in, like, at least eight months because he divorced me.)

Naturally, the next step was facebook searching. I checked around to see if I could find any of the members who were listed in the weekly newsletters, and I found three--all men. One of them is 12.5 years older than I am, and I am not exactly a young 'un. One of them looks 15 years older than I am, but congratulations to him for buying a new house! The third guy looks like he also might be in the 10 - 15 years older range, but he stood out to me because I had a tiny moment of panic when I saw his profession and thought he might work for the same company that employs me. Luckily, he wasn't in the company address book.

So maybe I don't want to belong to the group if they're all. . .old. Not that someone who is 10 years older than me is so over the hill, but is my tall, kind, handsome, funny, unselfish future husband ten years older than me? No, he isn't. Are any of my friends 10 to 15 years older than me? No, none of them. My best girlfriends are all pretty much my age. Even among their husbands, the oldest is only 7 or 8 years older than me. I think of it like this: let's say I'm 29. (Especially since that is the age I like to tell people I am, although it is not exactly true, ha!) Would I want to befriend/spend time with/date a 19 year old? I would not.

But back to the accidental dinner. The MRSG newsletter made several mentions of "Dinners for 8" starting up. In my head, this meant that they have a season (several months, maybe until next summer?) of monthly dinners. When you sign up to join the Dinners for 8 group, you get a list of months/dates and decide which month you are able to attend and if you would like to host. Everyone in the group is invited to an after-party, where dessert is served. Hosts volunteer, and if you aren't able to host, you can volunteer to co-host (provide food for a non-cooking host). I thought this would be a good way to get to know some people. My house is undergoing renovations, so I volunteered to co-host if anyone needed one. I was looking forward to seeing the list of dates available, and picking one that would give me some time to get a little more mentally and physically ready to meet a whole bunch of new people, including my possible future tall, kind, handsome, funny, unselfish, employed husband.

Yesterday, I received an email letting me know that I would be attending dinner at "Cathy's" house on Saturday night, with these six other guests, and I would hear from her soon to find out the details.

What. . .the. . .what??

I started reading back through the newsletter, and realized that I apparently skimmed over the actual information on the dinners in favor of inventing what I thought would be the process. Doh! Thank goodness the host wasn't expecting me to provide a meal for everyone.

Evidently, I have until Saturday night to put on my big girl panties and realize that meeting new people can be fun and totally not weird or scary. I can probably cowgirl up enough to not be totally shy and spend the evening sucking down wine and desserts instead of talking to strangers, right? Having such a short amount of time until the dinner will actually cut down on the time I have to worry about what I'll wear, or how my brow waxing appointment isn't for another week and a half, oh yeah and that's the same week I have my highlights appointment, but thank goodness I have a hair cut appointment tonight already, and am I getting a PMS zit right in the middle of my chin, oh dang it I didn't respond to the email in time and now I have to bring a stupid salad so I don't have my dessert-making charms to fall back on, plus where are my spanx because I totally haven't lost that extra 15 (or 20) pounds, and am I actually asking the internet for a SALAD recipe like I've never been to a potluck before?

Bring on the wine and desserts.