August 15, 2026 — 5:00amQ: I’m always having friends over for dinner, but very few of those friends ever invite me back to theirs for a meal. I seem to be the only one hosting dinner parties. Am I right to feel used? M.G., Dandenong, VIC Photo: Illustration by Simon LetchA: Hosting a dinner party is hard work. You’ve got to think of a combination of people who don’t loathe each other. You’ve got to contact those people and all agree on a date. You’ve got to check for food intolerances, then find a recipe containing the only three remaining ingredients that everyone can eat (sesame seeds, galangal root, tepid water).You’ve got to give the house a mega-clean, dusting the tops of bookshelves where your tall friend might see the dust and dead roaches, and scrubbing under the shower shelf where your short friend might see the soap scum and hiding roaches.You’ve got to go shopping, you’ve got to prep and cook, you’ve got to take a shower because your skin and hair smell of sesame seeds, galangal root and tepid water.You’ve got to welcome people into your home and pretend to look thrilled by their cheap gift-wines and puffed chickpea crisps. You’ve got to think of conversations that don’t turn into tedious rants about AI – which is impossible because every conversation eventually does.You’ve got to serve up courses, you’ve got to clear up dishes, you’ve got to stay up late because nobody’s going home, even though you’ve given them your standard, subtle, dinner-party clue: waving from the bedroom in your pyjamas.You’re not being used: you’re just one of the few humans left on this planet who can actually be buggered hosting a dinner party. For this reason, you’re the hero of your friendship group, beloved by all. Or you’re not so beloved and your friends are having dinner parties without you. One or the other. guru@goodweekend.com.auFrom our partners