How the Pandemic Probably Saved Me from Potential Axe Murderers
I am a very social person. Most of my friends would attest to this fact. Pre-Branson, I put on and/or attended weekly dinner parties—some planned/some impromptu. I had girlfriends over for afternoon wine and movies. I met friends for lunch or dinner out. I arranged cooking parties where everybody participated. I belonged to a supper club-Texas Hold’em Poker group. And, I hosted many weiner roasts at a special place in the desert hills that was called Split Rock. Plus, The Pageturners bookclub—oh how I love that group of ladies and our wonderful discussions!
Fast forward to the past three years spent here in Branson. Concerned about leaving friends and social activities behind, I was assured by everybody, “Oh, don’t worry! You will make LOTS of friends!” Hmmm. . . . What I now know for sure: Making new friends at the age of 73 (my age when I moved to Branson) is not easy. I have tried. Bob (who came to Branson a year ahead of me) had joined a Meetup group (you find this organization in almost every town). The one in Branson is for single people 50 and older. They get together frequently for eating out. Also, they go to the various music shows and other activities around Branson. So I joined, too. Was also invited to join a group of ladies who went to different restaurants every Friday for breakfast. Tried, unsuccessfully, to find a bookclub. But no real friendships seemed to click. Then, in my desperation to resume my life of entertaining, I took a step on the wild side! Bob and I had gone to a local restaurant for dinner. We had to wait for a table, so we decided to have a glass of wine in the bar. While Bob struck up a conversation with the bar tender, I chatted with a young couple seated next to me. They had just arrived in Branson for a visit. If I remember correctly, they were from Michigan. We shared conversation and laughter—something I was craving. Too soon, tho, our table was ready; and we parted company. However, the friendly couple were soon seated adjacent to us out in the restaurant. That was when a crazy idea started forming in my socially-deprived head. I could invite this nice, out-of-town couple (who I had just met in a bar and talked to for about 15 minutes) to our house for dinner. I ran the idea by Bob (forgetting that he is far less risk-averse than I) who enthusiastically said, “Go for it!” I sat there for a moment, then walked over the couple. I started with, “I know this sounds crazy, but would you guys like to come over to our house for dinner tomorrow?” I think they were a tad taken aback. I suspect this type of invitation doesn’t happen often. It has certainly never happened to me. But, after some thought, they accepted my invitation. The following evening they came for dinner. We had a lovely meal, and no one was killed in the process. At the end of the evening, both couples laughingly confessed our relief that the others were not axe murderers.
Now, the question: Did I ever do this again? The answer (so far) is no. But, one reason was the restrictions and cautions brought on by the Pandemic. Very few dinners out. No random chatting with strangers at a bar. No opportunities for impulsive invitations from crazy old women. Even without the virus, I believe that I would think twice before doing this again. Maybe. Who knows?
