Putting the "Party" in "Dinner"

I fear the following blog may come at a bad time, as I am currently riding out (no pun intended) some scurrilous rumours about my sexual preferences. But nonetheless, I'll carry on regardless and make a stand for the many hetros who are trying to undo some of the misguided notions of what constitutes manly behaviour.

I like to have people over for food.

I've noted there are significant differences between 'dinners' and 'dinner-parties,' and for what it's worth to you, I'm about to annunciate the differences. I'm not saying that this topic is of any great significance to your lives or that they are even hard (though they are fast) rules, all I'm saying is that one day, knowing the difference may just save your life. No biggy.

The Notice
If you're coming to eat at my flat and I've given you more than a day's notice, this is an early warning sign that it might be more of a d-p event. This does not apply if I've offered to feed you because we are both going the same place later that evening or if you are a charity case (that means you 'tinseltown').

The 'Guests'
If you are going to a dinner-party, you cease to become my mate, my family-member or my acquaintance. You should now consider yourself, 'my guest'. A good indication that you have just attained 'guest' status is that you have been made aware that other people who you may not necessarily even like very much (but usually this not the case) will also be in attendance. Generally, I like to bring three people together when I'm cooking and this is largely for selfish reasons. Firstly it means that the conversation will be more buoyant and is more likely to float pleasantly (moreso than it usually would with two) through my many absences as I dash to and from the kitchen and it is easy for me to jump on into my return with the goodies without capsising the whole thing. Also, it's easier for three people to acquiesce to being waited on, you'll notice it generally makes two people feel uncomfortable. All that said, I did have a successful mini-dinner-party there last week, as it comprised of a very conversationally adept couple who didn't mind being waited on, and they were well-familiar with the concept and had even gone to the trouble of nicking parent's wine for the occasion (and proper order too).

More than three guests would cause me problems: I don't have enough seats for a start, conversation would probably fragment and damn it, there's only so much one man can be expected to cook in all fairness.

The Food
When you come to a dinner-party you get a starter and desert. Also I will be refusing all offers of help with preparation. I am now completely in control of your eating experience (despite what the sounds of crashing pots and cursing you may hear coming from the kitchen may suggest). Also, it seems I'll invariably break out smoked salmon and a selection of dips at the d-p. This feature of the scenario dictates that one "Maxload(of rubbish)" is for the foreseeable future excluded from the list of possible 'guests,' as dips are his most treacherous foe, though I can also think of more immediate reasons for some coldness of shoulder on my part.

The Drinks
For reasons unknown, it is now wine and not beer (or miwadi for that matter). Also, it's good if the guest brings it.

The Entertainment
As above, it is now background music and not television. Nothing too challenging, but something a little emotional like Jeff Buckley or M Ward goes down nicely.

The Conversation
Little needs to be said on this matter, it is (or should be) common knowledge. In fact it is this aspect of the subject that has me writing a (largely dull, I'll grant you) blog about this very subject, but now my meanderings should perk up a little as I recount as best I can (I only got the gist as I was in the bashing about the kitchen for most of the gag), the finest relevant comedy-aside I have ever heard at a dinner-party (mini-d-p though it was).

One of the dips I served was Nacho Cheese. This fact prompted the following story:

"Two Irish guys had just moved to L.A. One of them came back to the flat to be greeted by his proud friend who announced that he had just brought home a slab of that famous nacho cheese that you always hear Americans talking about. The guy asks his mate where he got it and why he thinks it's nacho cheese because it looks to him like a piece of Cheddar. The response was that he found it just sitting on the pavement and he knows it's nacho cheese because as he was walking off with it, some guy yelled after him, "Hey you, that's nacho cheese! That's nacho cheese!""

I've been laughing at that since Saturday night.

For reasons of energy and finance, I am only in a position to entertain every couple of weeks or so, but I hope to get around to everyone who would be suited to such a soiree by the end of the summer. It's something I really enjoy doing (apart from the dishes obviously) but I have to admit that there while dinner-parties can be thrown with some success by a hetrosexual man, there's still something about the phrase dinner-party that sound irredeemably camp. Does anyone know any straighter terms for such an event?