Copines

This year, I got over my fear of being "the social coordinator". I pulled up my big girl culottes, rallied the troupes and set a date for a dinner with the copines. I checked in, followed up, made a restaurant reservation and then even made the executive decision to change it at the last minute when my first choice disappointed with a rule about a 45 Euro minimum per person for groups over 6.  

I think I deserve an "A" for effort because that stuff does not come easily to me - like, at all. I worry that people won't like the restaurant, that not enough people will be able to come, that my plans will fall on their face, but I realized this last night:

When it comes to restaurants and plans, most people just want others to make decisions for them to make life easy. 

I know I do. 

Which restaurant - I don't know...something good? with candles?

Which wine - uhhhh, I'll drink anything. Just please decide so that I don't have to. 

When the wine list came to our table, instead of hemming and hawing, one copine said, "Rosé non?" and that is what we drank for the rest of the night. No wondering, no who likes white, who like red, which one should we get? Plutôt sec? plutôt doux? None of that - just "une autre bouteille, monsieur - oui, la même." Easy peasy. I loved it.

The old me would have worried that not everyone liked rosé and that someone would be unhappy, but the copines rolled with the punches as I filled up their glasses with chilled rosé on a hot summer day.  We mish-mashed les entrées and les plats, shared desserts and asked for more baskets of bread. It was relaxed and I was relieved. 

At the end of the night, we peeled ourselves off of our chairs, chatting about les vacances, who would go where and when we would be back for our next dinner.  One of my dear American friends will move to Vietnam, a new friend just arrived from Ireland to live in Paris, two French copines will take an entire month off for August! My Canadian friend has started a new job and is doing some last minute get-out-of-town planning. My French-Irish-American friend will see family in Bretagne, as she grieves the loss of her sweet husband. The last time we saw each other was at his celebration of life, when we all vowed to get together more often, so saddened by what our friend was going through.  

Outside of the restaurant, as we kissed each other goodbye, making sure that everyone had a safe way home, I realized that all of the worries that prevented me from ever making plans in the past were very superficial. It doesn't matter where you eat, what the wine tastes like, or how many people can come. What matters is taking the time to see your friends, holding up those who are struggling, reminding those who are leaving that you'll miss them, welcoming new friends into your life, and enjoying the time that we do have together.


Need some chilled rosé with friends?

Chez Mademoiselle
16 rue Charlemagne
75004 Paris
Metro: Pont Marie (line 7)