Why People Don’t Host (And Why You Still Should)
Common fears that keep us from gathering—and gentle ways to move past them
There are so many beautiful things about hosting—a table full of people you care about, the clink of glasses, the rhythm of conversation, the slow pace of a shared meal. But if you’ve ever wanted to host and then talked yourself out of it, you’re not alone.
A lot of us love the idea of hosting… but never actually take the first step of inviting guests over.
Here are some of the most common reasons I hear (and sometimes feel myself!) for not hosting—and a few gentle thoughts on how to overcome them.
“My space is too small.”
This might be the most common reason of all. But here’s the truth: you don’t need a formal dining room or a “perfect” apartment to host. You need a table (or coffee table… or counter… or even the floor) and a willingness to be around people.
I host in a studio apartment. One room, no separate dining space. And it works. Because when people are offered food, a friendly environment, and your full attention, they don’t care how many square feet you have. They’re just happy to be there.
Try this: Host a dinner for two. Or three. Make it cozy and intimate. Small is actually an advantage—it means more depth of conversation, more meaningful connection, and less cleanup.
“I don’t have time to plan something elaborate.”
Hosting doesn’t have to mean pulling off a five-course tasting menu or crafting elaborate name cards. Sometimes a pot of soup, a loaf of good bread, and a simple tablecloth are all it takes. The goal is to gather—not impress.
I find that when I focus on doing just one thing really well—whether it’s a simple signature cocktail, a playlist I actually love, or a thoughtfully set table—the whole evening feels special.
Try this: Choose one anchor dish and build around it. A big salad, a pasta bake, even a pie. The rest can be store-bought or assembled in minutes. Thoughtful doesn’t mean complicated.
“I’m afraid something will go wrong.”
Something will go wrong. The wine will spill, the chicken might be dry, someone will arrive awkwardly early. That’s just part of the magic. No one remembers the perfect dinner party. They remember the warm one, the real one, the one where the host laughed off a small disaster and kept going.
I’ve served lukewarm food, forgotten napkins, run out of chairs. And still, everyone left full and smiling. The imperfections are what make it feel human.
Try this: Reframe “mistakes” as memories in the making. Hosting is a performance, but it’s also a conversation. Let it be flexible. Let it be fun.
“I don’t know what to make.”
Menu planning can feel overwhelming—but it doesn’t have to be gourmet. I like to think about dinner as a rhythm, not a competition. Something savory, something crunchy, something sweet. That’s it.
Sometimes I’ll start with dessert—what do I want to end the night with? And then build backward.
Try this: Choose a theme (taco night, pasta and wine, just desserts) and keep it tailored to just 3 items.
“I’m nervous about inviting people into my home.”
This one is deeply personal. Our homes feel vulnerable. They carry our stories, our messes, our half-finished projects and everyday realities. Letting people in can feel like too much.
I’ve learned that most people aren’t looking for perfection. They’re looking for warmth. And when you invite someone into your space, you’re offering a part of yourself.
Try this: Start with a low-stakes invitation—a casual weeknight dinner or even brunch. Invite one or two people you feel comfortable with. Let the experience remind you that your home is enough exactly as it is.
Hosting doesn’t have to be elaborate and expensive. It can be easy and simple. It can be a table set for two, with a candle and a bowl of pasta and a deep breath of pride that you did it.
The more you host, the more you’ll realize that the reasons not to… were never really about the logistics. They were about fear. And the antidote to that? Practice, patience, and just enough courage to send a text or a call to a friend or acquaintance asking, “Would you like to come over for dinner?”