I hold low-key parties at my house monthly. It's been the best thing for my social life.
My husband and I started hosting monthly parties at our apartment last year.
They're low-stakes — people bring their own snacks and drinks and don't have to RSVP.
It's completely changed my social life for the better.
In April last year, I emailed around 20 people my husband and I know, inviting them to a party at our place. There were guidelines:
Wear whatever.
BYOB + snacks, and bring anything. If we end up with 10 of the same chips, it's fine.
Don't RSVP. We don't need to know if you're coming or hear any apologies if not. We release you from the stress of committing ahead of time.
A bunch of people came. Friends from different areas of our lives became friends with each other. It was relaxed, delightful, and turned out to be one of the best things I've done for my social life.
This was the first iteration of the Monthly Party (MP), our recurring open-house gathering that removes the implicit pressure of more formal or less frequent events. If you miss one MP, no big deal; there will be another. If you don't know if you'll feel like socializing that day, cool; just decide the day of. There's no itinerary, no structure, just a good old-fashioned hang. It requires little else from me except sending an email a few weeks before each MP to set the date.
Everyone just wants to hang out
I was inspired to kick off our MP by my friend Stephanie Logan, who has hosted an interview podcast and spoken on connection in Washington, D.C. Along with MPs, she and her fiancé also host an annual summer camp takeover for all their friends. I asked her why she started her MPs.
"I was so sick of texting everyone and making Doodle polls to try to find a good time and then running myself ragged trying to be a picturesque host," she said. "Monthly Party works because we just pick a day, and whoever can come shows up with no obligation to dress up or bring a themed dish, my house doesn't have to be spotless, and everyone just gets to hang out, which is why we all want to go to a party anyway."
It's true — don't we all just want to hang out? Much has been written about how people are lonelier, spend less time together, and have a harder time making friends. A recent article in The Atlantic, "Americans Need to Party More," offered a proposed solution and hit a nerve online; I saw some social media chatter in response about how it's too hard to party because of lack of space or expense.
We need to rethink what a party has to be, from what should be brought to one to the proper space for hosting. My husband and I live in an apartment, not some huge house with a yard, and it's just fine. And MPs aren't expensive because it's BYO-almost everything (we have some easy snacks and drinks on hand). The email sets the tone that this isn't some blowout soiree, so we don't have to offer one.
It's a low-stakes, low-key social environment
My initial anxiety, the same one other people express when I tell them about MPs, was that no one would come — how do you know you won't be left to wallow in a tragically empty apartment?
Well, you don't. If we're going to become a society that's more social, we might have to embrace the discomfort of the unexpected. I had to commit to not being too disappointed if the turnout is low or nonexistent. People are busy. I do not believe that the people in my life secretly hate me, and that's why they're not coming. I had to just hope that the generosity of attendance would mirror the generosity of the invite. That's a social contract I think we've lost our grips on a bit.
Besides, if no one comes, I'm just hanging out at home like I was already; I've not done any major prep. If only two people who don't know each other come, I play Good Hostess and get a conversation going. Everyone who comes is aware of the deal here — they, too, assume any potential social discomfort.
These worries have been unfounded anyway. In something like seven MPs, we've had anywhere from four guests to more than 15. One went on until the wee hours, and I was nearly soothed to sleep in the corner of my couch by the satisfying din of my friends enjoying each other's company. People have preemptively asked when the next one will be. One friend brags that he's been to every single one. Another said she's inspired to start her own.
I think people are craving this kind of social environment just like I was, so I hope they take to heart what I realized: It doesn't have to be a whole thing. Just send an email and open your doors.
Read the original article on Business Insider
