One of my favorite things in cinema is a good dinner party scene. No one, in my opinion, does it better than Richard Curtis, particularly in the 1999 romantic comedy Notting Hill. There is an intimacy to the friendships within that group of characters that is unparalleled. The 80’s and 90’s were ripe with films featuring friends caught up in romances gone wrong, miscommunication, career ruin, and so much more. But they always have one another, to lean on, to bolster one another up.
As an only child (and the last true spinster among my best mates) friends have always felt like the closest thing to true companions I could find. You get a choice in their being a part of your life, unlike your family, and that choice is a powerful thing. It sends a message that you want one another in your life, because if you didn’t you’d never need to worry about running into one another at a family function. You could just part ways. Friendship, like any relationship, takes effort.
I’m aware it is no longer the 90’s, and the way we choose to communicate with one another probably wouldn’t create as lovely a vignette for Mr. Curtis to set his dialogue. Now relationships can be conducted almost entirely online, without ever being in the physical presence of the other person at all. And when the opportunity arises to spend time with friends - especially those who live a great distance away - a dinner party can often feel more like you’re playing at a Richard Curtis film than being a group of genuine pals sharing a meal. And if it should all go belly-up, that’s just another indicator perhaps it ought not to have happened in the first place.
Over the last week or so since my birthday, I have been reminded of something I routinely forget (I am ashamed to admit). I have been surrounded by incredible friends, who have made an effort to spend their precious free time sharing meals and having fun with me, people I spend most of my day with at work and people I rarely get to see at all. Last week, while journeying back home after a dinner with a coworker who moved on to another job last year, it occurred to me that the life I had felt I lacked - one where I attended dinner parties and had lots of friends - was actually the life I was already living. Sure, I miss my friends who live abroad and we will likely spend the majority of our time as friends talking via a messaging app of some kind, but the people who live right here in my city have embraced me. It is I who have been resistant to it, or simply missing the signs outright.
I know that going out (in any of its forms) can be expensive and therefore prohibitive for some. But when you can spend time with friends, whether it’s at a restaurant, a night club, the movies, your own home, or wherever, do so. Make the choice to sit and talk with the people you care about. Let them know you are invested in what they are doing, you will support them however you can, and that having them in your life makes everything a little more wonderful. The way my friends have made me feel all of these things recently has been overwhelming. It’s so easy to forget how lucky you are when you’re spending all of your time obsessing over the things you don’t have, or the things you feel are going wrong or off-kilter from how you’d planned. But in reality, even when things go sideways, a little time with the people who speak your language, who can always make you laugh so hard you cry, can set everything right again and give you the perspective you were lacking.
Anyway, I guess I’m not getting that brownie.