Don't bring your pistol to the holiday party, and other advice on how to be a stellar guest

For the unaware, that classic acronym comes from the French phrase Répondez s'il vous plait. That means, "Please respond." So respond, dingus. Some invitations don’t include an RSVP request, and that’s fine! For those that do, respect your host and let them know if you’re coming.

The general rule is that if you are invited to an intimate event, respond as soon as possible with a yes or no. This assists the host in their planning. If you’ve replied yes, you are obligated to go unless you are physically unable to.

If it’s a large party you should also reply as soon as you can. Most soiree veterans are accustomed to getting an influx of “yes” confirmations not long after the invites go out and another wave of affirmatives days before the party starts.

If you don’t know and there isn’t a “maybe” option, gauge whether you really want to go. I say this as both a host and a lazy guest. Answer “no” but make the host aware that you'd like to come if your existing conflict vanishes; they’ll be delighted to see that “no” shift to a “yes.” If you’d rather bed rot that day, just say “no” and leave it at that.  

You’ve accepted the invitation. You’re excited to go. You’re also a nice person, so you will probably offer to bring something. If your host genuinely wants to delegate, they will tell you what to contribute. If you agree to provide an item, be it a side dish or a dessert, do not deviate from your plan. Your host is counting on your contribution.

Just as importantly, if the host tells you not to bring anything other than yourself, take them at their word. 

This goes against what those of us with home training have been taught, I know. (Keep reading.) But take it from someone who has held a lot of dinners and thrown her share of bacchanals – if the host tells you to show up and nothing else, that means they have a vision of what they’re serving.

Do not be the person who shows up to a meticulously prepared multicourse Tuscan feast with a bucket of chili.

A good host will accept this generosity, mind you. And they will never let you know that they’re going to talk about that breach of manners for years. Possibly in print. Don’t do it.

In many cultures, showing up to an event empty-handed is considered rude. Speaking as a host, I get it! But I also don’t want to be stuck with that chili or five desserts at the end of the night – unless I request five desserts. (I will never ask you to bring chili. Trust.)

So what’s a gallant guest to do? Bring wine. Bring a nice beer. Even better, bring a non-alcoholic beverage option – there’s an array of fancy sodas and mocktails on the market that fit any situation.

You can also be a hero by reaching out earlier in the day and offering to bring a bag of ice. Many hosts forget to grab ice before their event or make ice and end up running out. Ice is also inexpensive and, if not needed, can easily be set into a utility sink, tub or shower to melt off.

Host gifts are nice too but err on the side of a small consumable token of appreciation. Good chocolates, tea, or coffee are splendid. Even small fancy soaps are delightful. Flowers? Lovely. That said . . .

Unless your friend or loved one has hired caterers or has servants, they will probably be very busy placing appetizers on platters or making sure the food isn’t burning. They do not have the bandwidth to engage in theatrical ooh-ing and ah-ing at that Beaujolais you're raving about. And they really don't have time to excavate a vase for the daylilies you brought.

Want to gift flowers? Provide the vase as well. Bringing a special wine? Unless you’ve previously made arrangements with your host to serve the wine with dinner, add it to their bar or wine rack. If you mean for your gift to be just for that person, let them know.

As with all things, the rules differ between dinner parties and crowded cocktail extravaganzas. If you’re expected at someone’s home for dinner, show up on time or within 15 minutes of the designated hour. But life happens. If you’re going to be late, contact the host and let them know.

I’ll confess I’m not great at following this rule as a guest, but my friends understand, as do I whenever they’re late. Gauge your host’s temperament. If you’re invited to the home of a new friend or you’re the guest of a friend — Be. On. Time.

Going to a cocktail party where lots of folks will be mingling? Do not show up on time or early. Seriously, your host is probably tending to last-minute matters when the start time rolls around, and nothing spikes the blood pressure more than hearing the doorbell ring right at 6 o’clock and knowing your hot appetizers are coming out of the oven at any second.

If you suspect you’re the first person, stay in your damn car until you see another group arrive. Then go in with them and socialize. Your harried emcee will thank you.

Seasoned hosts are accustomed to living by the rule of “the more, the merrier” and are happy to accommodate your plus one or two for parties – and for dinner, with adequate notice.

But that has its limits. This is not the time to spring your acquaintance who is “misunderstood” and “admittedly a lot to handle” on a roomful of people you’d like to associate with again. Forty-year-old toddlers are only entertaining in Will Ferrell movies. In real life, not so much.

You see the host darting about like a squirrel. He or she looks stressed. You offer your assistance. They politely decline. The proper response is for you to make yourself scarce.

Seriously.

They may look like their skull is about to explode. Doesn’t matter. If they say they don’t need an extra pair of hands, repeating “Can I help? Can I help? Can I help?” like a mynah bird on crank is the opposite of helping. You are forcing them to placate you while they’re juggling an assortment of tasks. Just shove off. If you must, remain within earshot and without staring at them so if they change their mind, you’re not far away. Otherwise, beat it.

Generally, the person who invited you to the party is responsible for connecting unfamiliar folks, but sometimes your host is uncorking bottles and shooing away mynah birds. Take the initiative and say hello to a friend who is still a stranger you haven’t met.

Let’s say you find yourself in the host’s kitchen during a cocktail party. You notice that the oven is empty but on. Ever the helpful guest, you turn it off.  

Elsewhere in the house, the host is eyeing the mini quiche plate and noticing it’s running low. She heads to the kitchen to throw a fresh batch into the oven she assumes is preheated only to find . . . a cold appliance. Thanks to your unsolicited assistance, she’ll now have to add 10 minutes of preheat time to the 20 minutes it takes to bake them. 

Ask before you act.

The same is true of an obstacle your host may not have accounted for. Another past guest of mine moved a stack of boot trays that were impeding her ability to comfortably lean against a wall by tossing them onto our patio. But she neglected to place them clear of the steps, as we discovered when my husband tripped over them later in the evening while he was taking out the trash, bloodying his knees.

I cannot stress this enough. Ask before you act.

Try not to cast yourself as the event’s Fun Bobby.

Refraining from overindulging at a friend’s house is basic good manners. Of course, sometimes it happens – that’s what rideshare apps and taxis are for. Under no circumstances is it acceptable to drink yourself blotto at another person’s house. If you can’t help yourself, you might have a problem. Don’t make it someone else’s problem.

I want to pretend that I can’t believe I have to say this, but this is America in 2023. I absolutely have to say this. Even if you have a concealed carry permit, even if your host is a member of a local rifle club, it is rude and dangerous to bring a gun into someone’s home.  

Toting a gun to a special occasion needlessly puts the lives of your host and their guests at risk and conveys to the person who invited you that you don’t feel safe in their sanctum or their neighborhood. 

I’m not quoting Miss Manners here, although I’m sure she’d agree with me. This is basic etiquette dating back to Roman times, if not before. In Tombstone, Arizona, circa 1880, Marshall Virgil Earp required visitors to disarm as soon as they entered town. If that safety rule was decent enough for the Earps, it’s good enough for the people who invited you over for eggnog.

Leave the gun. Take the cannoli – unless your host indicate otherwise. In that case, good wine and a cheerful mood are more than enough.