Sometimes dinner doesn’t go exactly according to plan.

I believe that sharing a meal with someone is one of the best ways to get to know them. So periodically, we invite folks from church that we don’t know very well over for dinner, just for the chance to get acquainted. A little like a Regency era dinner party. Generally, it has been really fun and we’ve enjoyed getting to know people that we otherwise wouldn’t have really gotten familiar with.

Generally.

Recently though, we had our first experience that really wasn’t so good.

I was careful to check with the two couples we’d invited about allergies and food preferences. I’d hate to serve peanut sauce to someone deadly allergic to it, ya know? Killing dinner guests, despite what Arsenic and Old Lace might suggest, really isn’t a good idea. I’d heard back, no eggplant, okra or curry. Not a problem, easy enough to manage.

I made our favorite no-fuss pork roast, roast veggies, rice and homemade cupcakes. The cupcakes required a special trip to the grocery and took a big chunk out of my day to bake, fill and ice. Not all day mind you, but I had to plan around getting them done and skip out on some writing I’d hoped to accomplish. But totally worth it for company.

The house was as clean as it was going to get (gotta be realistic about this, you know), the table is set, food is ready and guest arrive. We sit down and they ask what’s for dinner. Like a proper Regency hostess, I describe the menu. It’s not a twenty-six dish Regency dinner menu, or anything gourmet to be sure, just home cooking that I know tastes good.

Then it begins.

One guest, whom I will call Frank, for he was indeed quite frank, sets the tone for the rest of the evening. He begins commenting on the fact I am serving pork and starts quoting sources to demonstrate why eating pork is an acceptable thing to do. (Yes, I can see he’s channeling Mr. Collins here too, and I might have called him that. But there’s an image there that isn’t quite accurate, so we’ll stick with Frank.)

Not really sure what to say, I smile and nod—something I’m actually really good at—and bring all the food to the table. It probably wouldn’t be good form to remark how much I appreciate know that my chosen menu is acceptable according to his sources. Yeah, even I can tell that wouldn’t be a good idea.

 Eating and conversation ensue. One of my lady guests notices the platter of cupcakes on the kitchen island and remarks on how pretty they are. Frank noticed them, too.

Sigh.

He then announces that he’s given up sugar (a whole four days ago) and it’s just amazing. He feels great, he can taste stuff he’s never tasted before and he’s learned some amazing stuff about why sugar is awful for you.

What followed was a good thirty minute dissertation of very bad, inaccurate science about what sugar does to the body according to what he had read. Trouble is, no reputable source anywhere supports those ideas. Just one place that sells supplements that will help you cure the supposed problems it causes.

(Now before you get the wrong idea, I’m really aware of the problems of excess sugar. My parents and most of my father’s family are type 2 diabetics. I deal first hand with their health problems regularly. I get it. I’m not ignoring that at all.)

I smiled and nodded.

He then went on to tell us all about these relationship issues that he’d learned about and how they needed to be solved. And how doing that would make everyone’s life so much better. He had a few points, but since he had only a book knowledge and little experience on the matter, he’d oversimplified it painfully. It wasn’t the time to bring up the years I’d spend doing pastoral counseling or the two advanced degrees I held in the field. So…

I smiled and nodded.

By the time dessert came around, I put the platter of cupcakes on the table and just let people do what they wanted. Most took one, but no one really enjoyed dessert with the continued swirling discussion of how bad it was for your arteries.

At last all was said and done and our guests went on their way.

Our house our own once again, my husband looked at me and asked if I was all right.

I had to think about it for a while. It was a little difficult to pin down how I was feeling. I went through the list. Offended was an option. After all, what ever happened to the good old-fashioned standby of simply declining dessert without the lengthy lecture on why I was trying to kill everyone in the room. I definitely might be offended.

But no, I really wasn’t. I’m finding more and more I really don’t have the energy to devote to that particular emotion.

If anything, I was feeling sad. Sad for the fact that this acquaintance wasn’t working out well. Sad for the potential friendship which, in all likelihood, wasn’t going to be. Sad that he’s a teacher of sorts and these would be the manners and consideration for others that he would be modeling to his students. Sad that after this experience, I would think twice the next time I offered an invitation. I know we won’t give this up, but for a while, I’ll definitely feel guarded and cautious in ways I haven’t before.

And perhaps most significantly, I felt sad—and a bit reflective—wondering how many times I have left people smiling and nodding in my wake. How many times have I been rude and offensive and had no clue of it. How many people have felt bad or uncomfortable because of things I blurted out thinking I was simply making conversation.

Sigh.

I’ve got a big platter of  cupcakes sitting in the kitchen right now. I’ll send them to work with my husband tomorrow. But for now, I think it’s time for a cupcake. Red velvet, filled with cream cheese frosting, with a red velvet oreo cookie on the bottom. Anyone one want to drop by for coffee and cake?