I like to entertain. Thing is, I don’t do enough of it. Seems like no one else does either, so if there’s a fun gathering of friends needing to happen, I’m usually the one throwing the party.

Last month was my birthday. I wasn’t thrilled about it, mainly because I’m unemployed and wasn’t exactly in the celebratory mood. But I figured maybe the distraction would do me good. Besides, all the friends who came to last year’s birthday party were expecting me to have one this year. It gave them something to do on a Saturday night, when all they’d be doing is sitting home anyway.

My friends are a diverse batch. They include a doctor, a nurse, sales reps, journalists, artists, a paralegal, project managers, retirees, a dancer, writers, mentors, and a few others sorts. Their ages range from mid-thirties to seventies. I like this range in ages, because we all have something to say about where we are in life and where we’re headed. We all don’t share the same tastes, or hold the same views on things (both political and otherwise). It makes for lively conversation.

That’s what I noticed when I sauntered from pod to pod of people. Not everyone knew each other at this party, but by the end of it, they did. They introduced themselves to each other, chatting about this and that. One friend held court in the back of my dining room, discussing the merits of cannabis. Around the couch and coffee table, a spirited political discussion arouse. In the kitchen, location of the bar, a good-natured talk about naturalism and body positivity kept people smiling. A couple of guests recognized each other, having not seen each other in centuries and laughing that they met up again at my party, of all places.

For a few hours, I forgot about my troubles and loved sharing my space with my peeps. I made a ton of food, even my own birthday cake (chocolate cheesecake – one of my favorites!), all served up on the dining table shoved against the wall. Like a magnet, people drew closer, inspected the offerings, and filled their plates accordingly. Pigs in blankets, the eternal party fave, drew as much interest as ricotta gnocchi and vegetable risotto. Potato chips with onion dip never stood a chance, having been devoured almost immediately. A cheese tray with assorted crackers found an audience once the mains had disappeared and people needed something to munch on with their cocktails.

Now, it’s not like I hang out with these people all the time. My friends all have their own lives to tend to. Almost all of them are married or in a relationship. Sometimes, it feels weird that I’m the lone single woman in a crowd of couples. I’m acutely aware of this whenever I’m invited to any social occasion, even the summer poker league I belong to. Why would they want to hang out with me? I’m this single woman who never seems to attract anyone that’ll stick around. It makes me feel so strange, sometimes, like a ship unmoored, drifting around, with no particular destination. And that’s magnified because I’m unemployed. What’s the use of an upper middle-aged woman with no job, no partner, bordering on broke?

A couple of weeks later, I had an answer to that. Two couples I met at my social club have been friends together for years. From the beginning, they’ve invited me to do things with them. Sometimes I turned them down because I felt like I was a fifth wheel. Why would they want me hanging around, anyway? Upsets the couples’ balance.

I was wrong to think that, very wrong.

One couple was having a little St. Patrick’s Day lunch and they invited me and the other couple. Five of us. Again, I almost didn’t go. All of them insisted I show up, or else. Now, I’ve never mentioned to them that it seemed to me I was intruding somehow, or they took pity on me for some reason. They reminded me that they valued my friendship and really, truly wanted me there. Still, I had a hard time believing it. I came, bringing a dish to share at the table. Hugs all around. Seemed like everyone was glad to see me. We dove right into discussing the dire political scene facing our nation. The afternoon flew as our conversation grew animated, then serious, then humorous. And then I realized that a true friendship doesn’t take on distinctions. It doesn’t matter if you’re single, married, old, young, of a different race or religion. People see you for what and who you are, and love you because of it.

That’s it.

Acceptance is a hard pill to swallow for me. I’ve struggled with it my whole life. Perhaps one day I’ll really believe that I have value. That I matter. That I define myself by who I am, rather than whether or not I have a partner or a job.

In the meantime, I’m grateful, so very grateful for these people in my life, who came to celebrate with me another trip around the sun. Not everyone is this lucky, and I need to keep reminding myself of this. Wealth in friendship is truly a treasure to be cherished.