A Meeting, A Menu & a Meltdown, pt I

HomeBoy has this friend from work, and she invited us over for dinner eons ago. We didn’t really meet the family, but good times were had by all. Upon parting ways we exchanged the well-intentioned but hardly definitive pleasantries: “let’s do this again”, “we’ll have to have you over some time” yadda, yadda, yadda. Not that it was untrue, you understand, it’s just that invitations like that (in my experience) have no real expiration date. The true meaning is not to plan another activity but to let the other know that your door is open to them. That’s the important part, I think. But then again, many social norms are lost on me…

Over a month ago, HomeBoy relayed the message that his colleague was, ahem, waiting for me to invite her and her family to our house. We were both a bit perplexed by this. Had we waited too long to return the favor of her invitation? Why couldn’t HomBoy extend the invitation to them? He and I decided that there was some cute, albeit archaic “lady of the house” undertone. (Well, maybe the archaic part was all me.) So, in spite of my nervousness about the state of our Queen Mum and how poorly I perform with new people and my neurosis about being Muslim enough I said, “Let’s have them over this Saturday for dinner.” And then I died.

I decided on a menu of salmon, spinach and brown rice. Halal and simple enough. I asked HomeBoy if he thought we should get a dessert.

“Well, she said she would bring something,” he said.
“Cool. What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thanks. Thanks for that.”

I had to laugh because if one is preparing a meal, and a guest offers to bring something, not only do you thank them profusely but you FIND OUT WHAT IT IS. So there’s one less thing you have to worry about. He who was doing no cooking at all could not have thought to ask this important question. So I laughed because it was more cute than frustrating. Fine, I’ll buy a dessert. As the week progressed and the day of reckoning came steadily upon us, I started to get a little paranoid.

“Should we have appetizers too? Should I order some samosas? Am I doing too much?”
A blank stare, then a response.
“No, that’s a good idea. How many per person? How much will that cost?”
“I don’t remember, but I can find out.”

So now we have 3 courses going on, 2 of which I’m not even cooking (because I am a self-aware woman after all). So early Saturday afternoon we start to pick up the odds and ends for our evening of entertaining. We opted for mini cupcakes for dessert and a pita chip + veggie dip appetizer over the pricey samosas. Everything was feeling right. We came home, I started cooking, got dressed, etc. Except for my increasing heart rate and body temperature, all was well...