A Letter To The Random Person My Friend Brought Along

Dear Random Person My Friend Brought Along,

Funny seeing you here! Truly, I totally wasn’t expecting this. I’d use your name right now to address you but I forgot it while I was shaking your hand and trying to comprehend what was going on. As we go further, you’ll soon realize that this is one of many “it’s not you, it’s me” situations we’re about to confront here.

It’s not that you’re not welcome at this group dinner. Truly. That’s totally not the point of this letter. In fact, I’m simply trying to explain my side of things.

Long ago, when I dropped a “Any plans this weekend?” in the group chat, I had visions and expectations that I wanted to see through. After securing that really-hard-to-book restaurant a couple months ago, I had already mentally placed everyone at the table with me. I had expectations. I had a vision.

But now you’re here.

And that’s great! No, seriously, it’s great. I’m so glad you’re here. You seem really nice based on the 15-second interaction we just had.

But also—and no offense—I cannot be sat across from you or next to you. It’s not because I don’t think you have good stories or an engaging personality. It’s mostly just that… you know, I had things I wanted to talk about. And if I’m sitting directly across from someone who I don’t follow on Instagram, it becomes more of a networking event than it is a messy group dinner.

You see, I’ve been saving topics of conversation for this very dinner. I was hoping to drop numerous you-can’t-tell-anyones and so-have-you-heards without fear of exposing myself to friendship espionage. I’m not trying to like… talk shit… but also like… I am trying to talk a little shit. You get it.

You probably think I showed up early to this reservation because I was the one who made it. Unfortunately, I showed up early to make sure that I had the premier seat at the table and wasn’t stuck at the end trying to hear stories from the fun side over the restaurant’s music.

Wait, do you have any food allergies? Please tell me you don’t have any food allergies. I completely respect food allergies and understand how unavoidable they are, but we can’t really have you messing up the dynamic because oysters make you swell up. I’ve never used an EpiPen before and I had two glasses of red before I got here.

But seriously, you seem really nice. I am so sorry for making this weird and having a blank stare on my face when I saw you getting out of the Uber. I like your outfit! It brings out your eyes.

Have I mentioned how shy I am? Like so shy. Which is why, of course, it’s not you — it’s me. Which is why I’m going to sprint to the host stand once our complete party arrives. No, it’s not because I want to be the first one to choose my seat at the table — it’s because I just want to make sure everything’s in order. I have to pee really bad right now, but I’m also not going to risk being in the bathroom when they seat us. Maybe I’m just nervous to be around you. Take that as a compliment!

Do you like gin martinis? Because I’m about to drink three of them. I’m telling you that now so it doesn’t come as a surprise when the waiter asks our side of the table to quiet down a little. I don’t normally act like this (yes, I do) but I’ve been looking forward to this meal since I got the reservation. I even joked (it wasn’t a joke) earlier this week that I was going to “max out on dirty martinis” in the group text you’re not a part of. It got 4 “HaHa” emotes. People are expecting me to bring at least a little bit of noise.

Again, I’m so glad you’re here. It’s so cool to meet my friend’s friends from their various walks of life. So if I cater 95% of my conversation to the people whose phone numbers I have, just keep reminding yourself that it’s me and not you.

Sincerely,

A Person Who Feels Really Guilty For Not Wanting To Sit Next To You