CHAPTER TWO
INVITATIONS
Most folks never quite get around to taking the first step toward throwing a dinner party: inviting people over.
The reason, as we’ve stated, is fear.
Fear of people, perhaps. Their opinions of you, your home, your food. Fear that you’ll say or do something embarrassing. Or just generally the fear that OHMIGODEVERYTHINGWON’TBEPERFECT.
We understand. People can be weird. And there’s an entire home entertaining industry, with a business model based on setting the bar for dinner party perfection impossibly high. Read an issue of Martha Stewart Living and you could be forgiven for thinking you’re not allowed to throw a party unless you’ve woven each guest their own monogrammed quilt out of your own hair. Heck, we just laid a whole chapter of dinner party regulations on you! It’s downright daunting.
Which we’re sure is exactly how the brunch industrial complex likes it: a nation of cowering sheep too afraid to invite people over to their own homes. Better to let the brunch people help. Yes, much safer.
But here’s the golden rule about dinner party rules: Ultimately, NOBODY CARES. You’re inviting people over for free food and drinks. It’s pretty much social bribery. Will they really get uptight about your paucity of salad forks? Or because you disobeyed us and ordered a pizza for your main course? They will not. We’ll get uptight about the latter, but that’s our job.
Furthermore, as we declared righteously in our MANIFESTO, one of the main reasons to throw a dinner party is to bust through the mistrust of others that’s been bred into us by local TV news and AM radio. Being brave enough to invite people over, weird as they are, is an act of RIGHTEOUS DEFIANCE and SOCIAL GOOD.
Therefore, we say: Speak before you think. Make the leap and extend a party invitation as soon as it occurs to you. Like, right now. To both your best friends and to people you’ve barely met. Even if you don’t have matching fabric napkins. Even if the recycling bin isn’t emptied, or your laundry pile has grown to Blob-like proportions and taken your cat hostage. Your party will be taking place at night, so the light will be dim—no one will notice you haven’t dusted. You can tell them the cat is on vacation in Maui.1
That being said, you might want to know how best to extend an invitation. You might want to be aware of the classic guest archetypes, and what mix thereof might result in maximum party excellence. This chapter contains all that essential information, plus jokes and stuff.
PART 1: HOW TO INVITE
Every single week someone asks us some version of the question “How do you get such great guests on your show?”
To which we want to answer, “That’s surprising to you? Our show is fucking awesome—that’s how.” But then we remember that cussing out a public radio listener isn’t the best way to get them to contribute during a pledge drive, and instead we tell them this story:
Back in the late aughties, we were but midlevel reporters and producers on the public radio business show Marketplace. And each night, after listening intently for the telltale rustle of corduroy pants—a sure indication that our colleagues were leaving the office for the day—we’d sneak into the famed Frank Stanton Studios to construct what was then a tiny pet project: a podcast we were calling The Dinner Party Download.
The problem: How were we supposed to convince great musicians, authors, filmmakers, artists, and other cultural heavyweights to be guests on said podcast, which by the way no one had ever heard of?
Turns out: by asking them.
Yes, our first guest of honor was “nerdcore hip-hop” progenitor MC Frontalot, who happened to be Rico’s pal and owed us a favor.2 But we were soon extending invitations to people we really had no reason to believe would respond. Like Trainspotting author Irvine Welsh. Or handsome-devil (and Austin Powers nemesis) actor Robert Wagner.
Amazingly, they all came on the show. Despite the fact that we had an audience of approximately zero people. Despite the fact that, at the time, most people didn’t know what a “podcast” even was. And despite the fact that the very word “podcast” is one of the lamest ever devised to describe a form of media. Seriously: it sounds like a farming technique.
They showed up because it sounded like fun, because they had the time, and because they liked talking to people and had stuff they wanted to say. The same goes for anyone who’d show up at your party.
So how do you invite people over? Step one: ASK THEM. You’ll be surprised who says yes. Who knows? Maybe the Obamas were gonna spend the night chilling at home, but now that you mention it, hanging out with you over peel-’n’-eat shrimps and banana cream pie3 sounds like just the thing.
Of course, in our complex modern world, the phrase “ask someone to come over” isn’t as simple as it sounds. There are an ever-multiplying plethora of methods and mediums through which to extend an invitation to a dinner party and a few details that it’s important to express on an invite. Allow us to simplify it all for you.
THE INVITE: A FEW DOS AND DON’TS
1. DO put the word “dinner” before “party.”
You’d be surprised how many people send out invites to a party and forget to note that the central activity will be dinner. If your guests aren’t given this essential piece of information, they may eat beforehand. Not good. Worse yet, if they think they’re attending a regular old party, they might not bring wine (and all dinner party guests must bring wine—see chapter four).
2. DO request an RSVP.
You’re cooking for people. You have the right to know how many you’re cooking for, and how many chairs you’ll need to squeeze around the dinner table. Yes, in the modern world, a surprising number of your guests will be jerkweeds who never RSVP (see box “A Note to Guests”). But asking for an RSVP regardless covers your ass, so if they show up anyway and have to eat the last remaining chicken wing while sitting on the floor, it’s their own dumb fault.
3. DON’T include an end time.
As mentioned in the previous chapter, dinner parties have no set end time. Furthermore, according to our friends (and regular guests) Lizzie Post and Daniel Post Senning—professional etiquette experts who are actual descendants of Emily Post herself—including an end time on a party invitation indicates to guests that they’re welcome to show up at any time during the time range indicated. THIS IS NOT THE CASE AT A DINNER PARTY. People showing up midway through a dinner party will find all the pasta eaten and most of the booze consumed. They will then be hungry, sober, and mad.
4. DON’T forget your phone number.
We’re assuming you’re smart enough to know you should include, like, the actual address where the party’s happening. But also throw your phone number on the invite. Especially if your pad’s in a remote valley where GPS barely works. Folks cannot enjoy your dinner party if they get lost trying to find your ranch, run out of gas, and die in the desert.
INVITE METHODS: THREE SCENARIOS
Now that you know what information to provide on your invite, it’s time to pick a method with which to transmit it. In our heady electronic age, you can choose from many. The good news: They all work, kind of. The bad news: They all suck, kind of. But depending on how far in advance you’re planning your party, some methods are more suitable than others.
Scenario One:
You are a super energetic, mildly anal-retentive super-planner type and are preparing for your dinner party weeks in advance.
Suggested Invite Method: Custom Paper Invitation
A custom paper invitation, sent by mail, is the classiest and most classic way to announce a dinner party. Sending one is the closest you will ever get to feeling like the Queen of England, requesting the presence of Sir Mick Jagger for a post-polo soiree at Buckingham Palace.
By way of example:
Upsides: Looks cool. Makes invited guests feel special and valued. Also makes them feel guilty for even thinking about declining an invitation that obviously cost a ton of cash.
Downsides: Costs a ton of cash. Designing and mailing can take ten to a hundred times as long as the actual party will last. Makes guests think they’re expected to dress up and wear a powdered wig or something.
Alternative: Just pick up a few greeting cards from the drugstore down the street, handwrite the relevant details inside, and mail those suckers. Avoid cards with clowns, balloons, or cheesy photos of windswept mountains on them.
“[As a kid] I felt somehow nostalgic for a period I never lived through, I guess… I think in my mind somewhere I imagine that golden age exists. And there’s a few moments where you have that, you know? Either you’ll be at a really glamorous dinner, or at someone’s home with some creative, wonderful people, and you think, ‘Oh man, this is what it must have been like.’ But it’s such a rare, rare thing now.”
—SCARLETT JOHANSSON
Scenario Two:
You are a typical person who realizes, one Sunday, that you have the following weekend free. Hey, maybe you should invite some people over for a dinner party then!
Suggested Invite Method: Email
When the U.S. Defense Department created email, they were probably unaware it would be used mainly to transmit ads for Viagra and send dinner party invitations. But that is the case, and for this we both salute and are sad for them. Anyway, email is a quick yet unobtrusive way to alert your friends to an impending party—and gives them some time to respond.
Upsides: Near instantaneous delivery. Sense of shared friendship and intimacy as all invitees are immediately put in communication with you and each other. Recipients will appreciate receiving an email that is not an ad for Viagra.
Downsides: Invite may go unnoticed in recipient’s inbox amidst all the ads for Viagra. And that aforementioned sense of group intimacy can also somehow spark a sense of group ownership, leading guests to behave as though they are throwing a party that happens to be in your home.
By way of example:
Subject: Dinner Party Friday!
From: RnB@dinnerpartiesawwwyeah.org
To: 4to12friends@potentialguests.tv; barack@bananacreamking.us
Hi guys! You’re invited to our dinner party this Friday, at the DPD Penthouse high atop the Empire State Building. 7:30 p.m. Dress casual. Please, no pets, Brendan is allergic to dander and Rico is allergic to loud noise. Barack, you’re on banana cream pie duty.
Please RSVP!
Ciao,
Brendan & Rico
(555) FUN-PRTY
Subject: Re: Dinner Party Friday!
From: 4to12friends@potentialguests.tv
To: RnB@dinnerpartiesawwwyeah.org; barack@bananacreamking.us
Awesome! But I can’t make it Friday. Does Thursday work for everyone? Say 8 p.m.? P.S.: I have to bring my Doberman because he’s recovering from rabies. But he’s very quiet, and allergic people love him once he stops biting!
Signed,
Annoying Potential Guest
Subject: Re: Re: Dinner Party Friday!
From: barack@bananacreamking.us
To: 4to12friends@potentialguests.tv; RnB@dinnerpartiesawwwyeah.org
Dudes, this sounds sweet, but Thursday night doesn’t work for me ’cause I’ve got a standing date to watch Murder, She Wrote reruns with Bader Ginsburg. How’s 5:30 Wednesday night sound? P.S.: It’s great that dogs are welcome at the party. We’ll bring ours!
Best,
The B meister
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Dinner Party Friday!
From: 4to12friends@potentialguests.tv
To: barack@bananacreamking.us; RnB@dinnerpartiesawwwyeah.org
Next Wednesday at 5:30 p.m. it is, Barack! Can’t wait to meet your dog. P.S.: Please don’t bring a banana cream pie like you always do; our Doberman is lactose intolerant.
EXCITED,
Annoying Potential Guest
Alternative: Use Evite or another free online invitation service. All the speed of an email invite, plus RSVPs are tallied for you, and there is no opportunity for invitees to screw up your plans, as above. Beware, however, that for no extra charge, these services will also turn your invite into a giant billboard festooned with sponsored ads—perhaps not the best way to indicate your party will be a respite from corporate capitalism. But we’ll give you a pass for convenience’s sake.
You are an irrepressibly impulsive little imp, and anyway, your hot Saturday night date just canceled on you. Screw it: you’re inviting people over for dinner right now!
Suggested Invite Method: Group Text
Group texting is a perfectly legitimate way to extend an invitation to a casual or spur-of-the-moment party. It is also the invite method of last resort for hosts with a lot of lazy friends who didn’t RSVP to the invite you sent a week ago.
Upsides: Speediest and most direct way to invite guests to your party. Only way to invite millennials to your party.
Downside: Of all invite methods, this is the one most likely to accidentally destroy a friendship.
By way of example:
RnB Dudes did you get the cards, emails and evites we sent about our dinner party tonite
RQ
Yeah, but I didn’t respond coz I didnt feel like it
MZ
No I dont check email anymore
PD
LOL Evite? Is it 2005?
RnB OK well we’re having a party tonite, 7:45 pm. We’re serving foie gras tacos!
RQ
Cool will b there!
MZ
Thats ducking awesome c u then
MZ
(I mean FUCKING awesome I hate autocorrect)
PD
Is Rudy Quatro coming? We had casual sex yesterday & don’t want to hang with him coz he’ll think I actually like him
RnB I think you meant to send that message privately, plus Rudy’s on this thread, dawg
PD
Oh duck
RQ
:|
Alternative: Just call everyone on the phone and tell them to come over. By way of reminder, a “phone call” is when you use your phone not to text or take photographs but to dial a number and actually speak to another person. We know: weird! Note: Don’t be surprised if a guest sounds panicked when they answer—they probably assume someone has died, because why else would you call in this day and age?
PART 2: WHO TO INVITE
Now that you’ve chosen how to ask people over, the next obvious question might seem to be, who should you ask?
Our answer to that, of course, is, whoever you like. We’re not the Kremlin; we don’t have an enemies blacklist for you or something.
But we do suggest that a more germane and important question at this point in your party planning might be, what combination of people should you invite? And as we stated in our MANIFESTO, it’s our view that the goal of all hosts should be to shoot for the unlikeliest mix of people possible.
We acknowledge that this flies in the face of mainstream wisdom, which views a dinner party as a place solely for cozy quietude and mellow, conflict-free good times. Nonsense! In this ever-compartmentalized world, it’s too easy to avoid encountering opinions or lifestyles different than our own. That may be awesome for mating and blood pressure, but it’s bad for life, democracy, and boredom avoidance. A dinner party is a fine arena for cozy mellowness and respectful conflict, often in the same night.
“I don’t have a very diverse or inclusive set of friends. I don’t have dinner parties with people who have different viewpoints than me politically. And that’s a problem. You know, as much as I can criticize the close-mindedness and the privilege of someone that stays in their glass house and doesn’t know people of color, I don’t know any conservatives. I don’t know any Christian conservatives that I can sit down with and have a meaningful conversation.”
—AVA DUVERNAY, OSCAR-NOMINATED DIRECTOR OF SELMA AND 13TH
Our favorite episodes of our show are when the guest list reads like it was devised by a guy with a borderline personality disorder on an ayahuasca trip.4 Like the time a single episode featured the born-again Christian bassist from Megadeth, plus beach read queen Jackie Collins (RIP) and astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson. Who knows? Seat all those people around a table and they might kill each other. But it’s more likely they’ll bounce ideas off each other until they reach a glorious ideological mash-up that could solve climate change and bring peace to Syria. But we guarantee the latter scenario won’t happen if you invite over twelve versions of the same person, and you all just sit around smiling gently.
But vocation and belief system aren’t the only filters through which to pass your guest list. You’ll also want to consider the proper mix of basic personalities. In our years of inviting guests to a weekly audio dinner party, we have found that all humans fall into one of several archetypes, each ideally balanced and offset by an equal and opposite one. For your convenience, we list each archetypical “pair” below. Avoid inviting one without the other.
Note that one of these people is YOU.
PAIR ONE:
a. The Narcissist
We know more about narcissists than anyone in the world.5
We regularly interview celebrities who’re used to being treated as though the universe revolves around them, so we know whereof we speak. What’s more, we interviewed a guy who literally wrote the book on the subject: journalist Jeffrey Kluger, author of The Narcissist Next Door. He provided us with this object lesson in classic narcissism:
There was a woman [I met] who was eighty-five years old. And she was talking about her past, and talked about how she got out of a bad marriage when her husband went to fight World War II.
And she said, “It makes me wonder if this war was really fought to defeat Hitler… or to get me out of a bad situation.” And she said that shamelessly, and without self-awareness.
Ah yes, who could forget FDR’s classic declaration of war?: “Yesterday, December seventh, nineteen forty-one—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America entered the deadliest international conflict of all time, in order to end this one random woman’s lousy marriage.”
Our takeaway here is that narcissists are everywhere. They come in all forms, from eighty-five-year-old war widows, to show-off baristas, to United States presidents.
And yet narcissists make wonderful dinner party guests! They’re often charming, they can be great to look at, they’ve got endless reams of undeniably interesting stories about themselves, and at the very least their total self-absorption can be fascinating to witness. But beware: Like saffron and Adele songs, a little goes a long way. The same narcissist whose ego can bring a blast of energy to a gathering can also steamroll conversation. They’re good to have around in case of a fire, because they can suck all the oxygen out of a room.
BALANCE WITH:
b. The Subtle Undercutter
The Subtle Undercutter is the most quiet and innocuous-seeming person at the party. Indeed, other guests might initially wonder why you invited such a mouse to your shindig. Then the Narcissist says something boastful, outrageous, or otherwise lame, and the Subtle Undercutter chimes in with a single phrase that deftly puts the offender in their place. Everyone laughs—including the skewered narcissist, because what else is there to do? The Subtle Undercutter has been so quiet and nice that there is no barb to hurl back! It’s kind of a magical thing.
It can be hard to know who amongst your friends, family, or acquaintances is a Subtle Undercutter, on account of them being, you know, subtle. It’s only in a party situation that their true nature blooms forth. But we’ve seen elderly Midwestern women, after decades of putting up with mildly racist blowhard husbands, become adept Subtle Undercutters. Have a glass or two of sherry on hand to rev them up.
PAIR TWO:
a. The Name-Dropper
Allow us to describe the Name-Dropper by dropping a name: former prince of talk shows Dick Cavett. He’s one of our favorite recurring guests, and would be near the top of any rational person’s dream party guest list—despite the fact that a transcript of a conversation with him reads like the hotel registry at the Chateau Marmont. In his four visits to our show, he’s managed to “casually” mention encounters with Groucho Marx, Katharine Hepburn, Alfred Hitchcock, Gore Vidal, George H. W. Bush, Spiro Agnew, and John Lennon.
“Groucho left a party once early, in Los Angeles, with a rather snooty hostess who said, ‘Leaving, Mr. Marx?’ And Groucho said, ‘I’ve had a wonderful evening—but this wasn’t it.’”
—DICK CAVETT
Cavett is the best sort of name-dropper: Each name he drops is in service to a great anecdote; the celebrities mentioned are of such cultural importance that the mere utterance of their names adds class to the proceedings; and hearing his tales about them evokes our common story. For better or worse, celebrities are this era’s Greek gods, playing out our fears and fantasies at a safe distance.
Unfortunately, most name-droppers aren’t Dick Cavett. They brag about celebrity sightings to bolster their low self-esteem, adding nothing to your party but a sense of pathos. Many of these name-droppers host public radio culture shows.
BALANCE WITH:
b. The Sleeper
The Sleeper is the guest who’s so money, she doesn’t know she’s money. The hidden gem who other guests discover lurking in their midst like a rare baby panda. In a manner similar to that of the Subtle Undercutter, the Sleeper is quiet at first. But over the course of the evening, as conversation and wine flow, this person slowly, humbly reveals that they are in fact the most interesting individual at the table. The Name-Dropper’s glamorous tales suddenly pale in comparison to this real live human being sitting before you.
The Sleeper is rarely a celebrity. Most often they’re a scientist working in some obscure corner of an obscure field, the world-shaking importance of which they’re able to easily convey to your increasingly delighted guests. Or perhaps they’re a retiree who, they eventually admit with a hint of embarrassment, once spent two years on a commune with Leonard Cohen. The Sleeper is a regular, relatable person whose name one would never drop, but who does or has done stuff you can’t imagine.
The “Chattering Class” section of our show is basically a weekly repository for Sleepers: the mild author who spent years visiting every potential site of the legendary lost city of Atlantis, the perennial TV extra who specialized in playing corpses. They’re some of our favorite guests.
But be warned: Occasionally the Sleeper is “asleep” for good reason—i.e., they turn out to be fucking nuts. Keep a cell phone and a spanner handy in case one of the fascinating things the Sleeper reveals is that they were a mob assassin, and that they kind of miss it.
PAIR THREE:
a. The Eeyore
Also known to baby boomers as the “Debbie Downer” and to millennials as the “Emo Kid,” the Eeyore is a misanthrope. A grump. A bummer. In short, a realist who refuses to pretend that life is anything more than an endless parade of mean people beating up Mother Nature until she buries us with earthquakes and tsunamis.
Sounds like just the dude you want at your party, right? But like narcotics, if deployed sparingly, an Eeyore can actually heighten the effects of a good gathering. We need a little tension and conflict to be entertained. And Eeyores can be counted upon to provide both, because they disagree with everything. Note these two possible conversational scenarios.
Scenario 1
YOU: I love cute puppies!
GUEST: Me too! Here is a picture of mine.
Scenario 2
YOU: I love cute puppies!
EEYORE: They grow up to either bite us, or die and leave us grieving.
Scenario 2 forces you to examine the nature of pet ownership, to defend your emotional attachment to an animal whose true thoughts and motives remain largely unknown even to science, and to perhaps dig into the Eeyore’s background to try and learn what rendered them immune to the obvious awesome cuteness of baby mammals with large watery eyes and sweet, clumsy little legs. Whereas scenario 1 can only lead to a half hour of you and your guest calling up ever-cuter puppy pictures from the depths of your cell phones. We know which interaction would leave us feeling enriched.
That said, too much Eeyore can obviously turn a party into a suicide watch. In fact, a recent survey showed that 85 percent of party fouls were committed by unremittingly bleak Eeyores.
BALANCE WITH:
b. The Comedian
Comedians have a twinkle in their eye, an infectious laugh, no fear of strangers, and a commitment to making people chuckle. A Comedian is genetically compelled to force an Eeyore to crack a smile, or at least force the Eeyore to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his/her implacable grumpitude.
All good things. Yet hanging out with a Comedian can be a bit like sticking your head out the window of a moving car. It feels good for a while, until your face, mouth, and ears start to feel like pulled taffy. Constant hilarity is exhausting, but the Comedian lives to laugh and get laughs. They have zero sense of when enough is enough.
Another drawback: The Comedian thinks everything is fair game for a punch line, including religion, terrorism, and other guests’ sincere tales of personal tragedy. We support ribald humor and mischief (see chapter six), but the goal is to create an atmosphere wherein guests can say anything—and the Comedian’s irreverence can have a chilling effect.
The key moments at which to activate Comedians, then, are the beginning and end of the evening, when it’s good to have someone with no boundaries break the ice or rev up others’ flagging energy.6 But work on keeping them subdued during the middle portion of the evening, when richer conversations traditionally flourish. Suggestion: Prepare a meal you know they’ll love. It’s hard to talk with your mouth full. Although they’ll try.
Also keep an eye on Comedians’ alcohol consumption. They will invariably tend toward having one too many, at which point they will reveal themselves to be, at heart, Eeyores.
PAIR FOUR:
a. The Single and Proud
Technically, Single and Prouds aren’t guests—they’ve just come to grab food between dates. Dates with boys. Dates with girls. Dates with start-up companies. Doesn’t matter. They want… they take. At least that’s what they say. In reality, who knows? Single and Prouds send a lot of mixed messages. On the one hand, a recent hookup is described disdainfully as “the reason abortion should remain legal,” and yet same said hookup would “make a great parent” and is the Single and Proud’s date to an upcoming wedding. One moment the Single and Proud expounds on the joys of being answerable to no one; the next they’re stabbing their hand with a fork while a couple talks about their recent adorable trip to Tulum.
The Single and Proud’s titillating stories of romantic conquests can often veer into overshare territory, especially if they’re seated near established couples. They’ll say things like, “Oh—you guys have a joint bank account?! That’s cute. I have joint custody of a submissive named Mars.”
A Single and Proud can add a nice jolt to a dinner party. Just keep them away from couples on the rocks.
BALANCE WITH:
b. The Hipster
You can smell them before they arrive: the rich scent of cedar and cold-press coffee excreted through the ink of tattooed pores. A hybrid of yuppie and store-bought bohemian. The Navy SEALs of gentrification. The Hipsters.
Whereas the Single and Proud is needy and provocative, the Hipster teems with party confidence. They are “up” on every single thing of cultural importance, plus the stuff that’s going to be of cultural importance in the future. Therefore, the Hipster loves dinner parties—one of the few arenas outside arts journalism where all this knowledge is of any value. Hungry after a long day of being ironic, they’ll arrive fashionably (how else?) late and happily request an obscure cocktail you don’t have ingredients for, jam your conversational radar with an obscure pop reference, and then inhale your meal using nothing but their phone’s camera.
While potentially vapid and sad in the long term, over the brief course of a dinner party the Hipster provides delightful and essential conversational currency. We also recommend deploying social jujitsu to turn their exacting, curatorial tastes to the party’s advantage. A good tactic: Install them behind the bar. (Hipsters are natural mixologists: as children they whipped up Juicy Juice Manhattans and chocolate milk martinis.) Or ask them to DJ. (After they’ve publicly condemned your record collection, you can count on them to conjure solid grooves out of their Pono,7 not one of which you will have ever heard before.)
The Hipster will also happily talk up—and likely leave with—the Single and Proud. They collect interesting dates, as they do everything else.
PAIR FIVE:
a. The Eager Beaver
Amazing but true: Some people actually like to help and do stuff. These are the Eager Beavers. The Cuisinart of dinner party guests, the Eager Beaver minces, chops, blends, and is really hard to put back together once taken apart. So put them to work! Shelling walnuts, washing mushrooms, setting the table, preparing your taxes—you name it. The Eager Beaver is your essential backup: your Alfred the butler, your Flavor Flav, your best friend who can vouch that on the night of the murder,8 the two of you were hanging out at her place.
The trick with Eager Beavers is making sure they don’t end up taking over your event. Stand firm when they try to make your olives “better” by stuffing them with mayo. Resist when they offer to answer the door for you. Stop them when they attempt to spank your children for eating all the Goldfish crackers or start making up endearing nicknames for your spouse. Deep down, the Eager Beaver is uncomfortable being a guest; don’t let them become the host.
BALANCE WITH:
b. The Bad Drunk
This is, you know, a bad drunk. For the host, the Bad Drunk is an embarrassing tragedy. But you might want to invite one for the benefit of the Eager Beaver, for whom the Bad Drunk is a wonderfully all-consuming nightlong project.
A NOTE TO GUESTS 
Congratulations! You have been invited to a dinner party via one of the methods described herein. Now what?
RULE #1: RSVP
We understand you’re busy. But a dinner party invitation indicates that someone finds you interesting enough to want to spend a semi-intimate evening with. They’re also offering to feed you. At least tell them whether you’re going to show up! And do it quickly—particularly if you can’t make it. Remember: If your host is using this book properly, they have identified your archetypal personality and have invited another guest with an offsetting personality for balance. If you flake, the host will need as much time as possible to find another narcissist to take your place.
RULE #2: THOU SHALT NOT ADDITIONALLY INVITE
Dinner parties are not frat keggers or holiday parties, where the host’s goal is to have so many people show up that she doesn’t know who half of them are. A host puts actual thought into a dinner party guest list and may only be able to physically accommodate a certain number of people. So if you’re invited to a dinner party, assume you’re the only one invited—don’t bring someone along without asking the host if it’s cool. However, NOTE TO HOSTS: If you invite a guest who’s part of a couple, expect the other half of the couple to show up. Especially if you are the guest’s ex.
RULE #3: NOW IS THE TIME FOR THE DIETARY-RESTRICTIONS CONVERSATION
You are a lactose intolerant vegan celiac. You would like not to be restricted to eating only carrot sticks at your host’s party. Fair enough. What you do is, immediately upon RSVP’ing, ask if it’s okay to bring an all-plant lactose-and-gluten-free entrée for yourself. Your host will very likely tell you not to bother, because they’ve got your dietary needs covered… or they’ll delightedly welcome your offer.
The time to bring up your dietary restriction is specifically not when you show up at the party. At that point, your job is to happily eat the carrot sticks.
REGARDING CHILDREN
For whom is a dinner party recess? Adults. Who are not adults? Children.
An overabundance of little ones underfoot will negate everything that makes a dinner party a dinner party. You cannot be spontaneous and freewheeling in an environment where you’re not allowed to utter a four-letter word, lest you sully a child’s tender ears. It is exponentially more difficult to bond with peers over conversations of substance (or even silliness) if you have to pause every five seconds to pry the fondue fork out of little Olivia’s hand before she stabs the cat. You cannot take a break from the pressures of adulthood while a child—the physical manifestation of adulthood’s most awesome responsibility—is all up in your grill.
We love kids, though, and are in favor of exposing them to dinner parties, thus enculturating them early to the pleasures of the form. We ourselves fondly remember our own parents’ dinner gatherings, during which we got to spend the evening in the TV room watching Battlestar Galactica while, in the dining room, the grown-ups’ laughter kept getting louder and louder for some reason.
And that is the key: If some guests want to bring their kids, that’s fine, as long as the kids can be sequestered away from the dinner party.9
Obviously, this means that the children need to be mature enough to, like, go to the bathroom on their own, and entertain themselves without setting fire to the curtains or each other. Also, you’ll need a place big enough that you can only hear the children if they’re screaming in pain. Therefore, alas, efficiency dwellers: your guests will just have to hire a babysitter.
Of course, you can have a swell time welcoming parents with younger infants and toddlers into your home! Just be aware that when you do, you are having a baby playdate, not a dinner party.
“My [journalist] parents had some of the best dinner parties [in Washington, DC]… I used to climb under the dining room table with a pillow, thinking that none of them knew I was there. Like, I would army crawl under their legs, and just lay down and listen to them talk… And at one point Mick Jagger was there… and he just said, ‘Go to bed!’”
—OLIVIA WILDE