There are particular places, homes (destinations, if you will) where I feel that time slows down. These places are like a hospitality vortex. They suck the friendliness from the atmosphere in a slow, languorous way and in the process slow time down. When I go to such places, I do so with the idea that I will leave when I want to. I plan. I take a separate car (when possible). I try to be cordial, but often I am abrupt at the hour passed my thirteenth yawn.
I don’t mean to sound nasty or contemptible. I bring up the matter in a way to express a curiosity, because the welcome I receive is often diminished by the second hour of my stay. In fact, these particular places are never places that I am invited to directly. On the contrary, these are places that I find myself going to as a friend to a friend, as a spouse, or as a guest of a guest.
I am always the second thought of the inviter, and I suppose subconsciously this places me in a tepid disposition when I arrive. Let me explain.
Last week, my spouse received an email from a friend. Now this friend knows my email address. He knows me personally. But time after time, his attentions, his invitations, phone calls, and emails are directed to my spouse. Sometimes my name is never mentioned in the invitation, and always never mentioned on the answering machine. It is as if I’m not invited. I am not part of the life of this spousal friend even though, indirectly, I am.
Most recently, this friend invited my spouse to an event later in the year. Weeks later he mentioned it to me at a dinner party.
“I wanted you to know that you are invited too.”
It seemed too little too late.
I have been wondering if I’ve offended this person at some point and didn’t realize. I could have. Still, this is one example of a destination where I do not feel time can move fast enough. Hospitality is gone in less than an hour, and I am left watching the minutes drag on. I hate to mention this to my spouse. I did once and it started an argument.
In time the invitations may change, and my disposition on the matter may be welcome under the bridge like water that slips pleasantly by.
