Hostess under protest?

I love having people over.  Until I actually invite them. Then I realize I'm going to have to get my shit together, and I regret ever opening my party-loving mouth.  But I man up, badger friends for appetizer recipes, clean the house, and brace myself. Here's what I've learned after years of puff pastry and cheese dip gone awry.

The only rule you really need:  don't ever run out of booze. Ever. Sure, people bring booze with them, but sometimes, they drink it all. If they're my friends, by "sometimes"  I mean "in the first 45 minutes". People can deal with the Wavy Lays running out. Vodka is a different matter. 

Spend twice as much time cleaning your bathroom, and very little time cleaning anything else.  I once felt the need to straighten up the basement before a get-together. You know, in case someone wanted to take their empties downstairs, maybe do a load of laundry, change the furnace filter.  What a waste of time.  No one is ever going to see it.

Forget what I just said. Bold-faced lie.  Assume that someone, at some point, will need a sweater, or more hangers, or lip balm, and you'll boozily tell them "Upstairs. Just go grab it". It will be approximately 15 seconds later when you realize there's a better than average chance they have not yet found the Blistex but have found the bull whip in your dresser. True story; I can explain. But I won't.

On a related note, people like to look around. Some people call it snooping; I call it natural curiousity. It doesn't bother me in the slightest; if I've invited people over, it's because they already know and, hopefully, like me. Want to look on my bookshelves or in my medicine cabinet? Go ahead! Trust me - given the choice, I'd much rather people poke around in my nightstand than my relationship history; way less chance for humilitation courtesy of the Canesten and the sleeping pills.

When people ask if they can bring something, always say yes. Unless it's the weird guy they just started dating who creeps out your other friends. See also: kids, radishes, and anything you need to set on fire to finish cooking. 

Lighting is everything. My kitchen has two fixtures, each consisting of 5 bulbs. During party prep, they're on full blast. But first time I threw a party in my house, I forgot to dim them before guests arrived. It was less "Merry Christmas" and more Inquisition. If they'd had incandescent bulbs and sweet and sour meatballs in Spain circa 1500.

Try really hard not to have sex until all your guests have left. It's bad manners, and can lead to awkward burst-ins. This is a hypothetical. Besides, it was more an after party than the party proper.

Your cat most likely did not escape. She's in the basement, having squeezed herself into a tiny space between the ceiling boards. She's wondering who in the fuck all these people are, and planning on vomiting in your shoes after you go to bed. The other one, after spending an hour eyeballing the assortment of appetizers, is now in the living room, demanding whisker rubs from total strangers, usually the ones who're afraid of cats. She has also helped herself to some red pepper dip. And some cheese. And possibly eggnog.

No one likes veggie trays, not really.  Sure, they'll nibble them if they're there, but not once, in the history of house parties, has anyone looked at the snack assortment and said "No cherry tomatoes? Boo!"  A friend gave my prospective menu for this weekend's party a glance and, when I asked what was missing, said, simply, "Meat!"  I just have to accept that no matter how pretty and delicious my ricotta, lemon and honey crostinis are, they're not guy food. But I will make them, and you will eat them.

Now buy lots of votives, turn the lights down, and put on a low cut top to distract from any lingering dust you may have missed. Whatever you do, just don't run out of booze.