Not long ago, I hosted a dinner party—something I used to do frequently when I was married. After my divorce, the thought of organizing such an event felt overwhelming, and I often found myself lamenting my single status—adrift and unloved. Invitations to social gatherings seemed to dwindle, especially as a single woman navigating a sea of coupled friends. In the world of fortysomethings, being independent sometimes feels like a societal threat, leaving you to grapple with the perception of being an outsider or, worse, a desperate soul on the hunt.
However, the monotony of countless dinners with my children made me crave the joyful experience of sharing a meal with peers. With no invitations coming my way, I decided to take matters into my own hands. A young couple I knew—a woman who was two decades my junior and her charming CEO boyfriend—had recently rekindled their romance, partly due to my subtle matchmaking efforts. Their love story provided the perfect excuse to whip up a feast.
Inspired by their passionate reunion, I understood that I needed to be proactive in my own life. My late father’s words echoed in my mind: “You make your own luck.” As a child, I dismissed this notion, thinking luck was purely random. But life has taught me that while luck exists, it’s intention that truly shapes our experiences.
The dinner guests that evening included not only the young couple but also a man I had met on my first blind date in 24 years. The courage it took to even go on that date still astonishes me. I spent days crafting a message, finally settling on an awkward invitation for a hike. I felt nauseous on the way to our meeting spot, but I showed up, and we ended up bonding over our shared struggles. Now, eight months later, he has become my confidant, the person I turn to for both celebration and solace.
One of the lessons he imparted was profound: “Don’t just do something, stand there.” Initially, this sounded counterintuitive, but it’s a reminder that sometimes, pausing to think before reacting is an act of intention in itself. As I navigate my new life as a single woman, I’ve found that this principle serves me well, especially when confronting the reactions of friends and family.
My dinner table that night was filled with laughter and warmth, featuring friends I had met through other gatherings, including a couple I had introduced. I even took a leap of faith and expressed my desire to befriend one of the new acquaintances, something most people stop doing as they grow older. It’s surprising how receptive people are when you openly express your admiration.
In a moment of clarity, surrounded by the flickering candlelight and joyful conversation, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for my life, imperfections and all. I found myself appreciating the very chaos that had pushed me to embrace vulnerability—something I had neglected during my marriage.
And then, out of nowhere, I heard a loud crash followed by my child’s sobs. “I tried to get from the top bunk to my desk and broke my shelf,” he lamented. The remnants of his shelf were strewn across the floor, a stark reminder of a similar incident from years ago, which had coincided with my realization that I needed to leave my marriage.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “We’ll clean it up after dinner.” My new friend, skilled with tools, offered to help fix the shelf. He gathered supplies, demonstrating intention and focus as he worked. I marveled at how something as simple as toothpicks and glue could repair a broken shelf. It was a brilliant metaphor: with a bit of intention, we can transform problems into solutions, shore up the weak spots in our lives, and emerge stronger.
While the remnants of the chaos lingered, we had achieved a small victory together. Sometimes, that’s all you need to spark a shift in perspective.
In summary, the experience of hosting that dinner party illuminated the importance of intention and connection in my life post-divorce. By taking proactive steps to surround myself with supportive friends, I began to find joy and gratitude in the journey—embracing the chaos while learning to mend what was broken.