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Ah, yes. We know of that one person.
The unofficial social secretary. The keeper of everyone’s preferences. The one who knows who drinks red, who drinks white, who has switched to water, and who insists they’re only having one more before proceeding to have three.
He is, in short, a host.
A position he takes seriously, despite having no official appointment and a guest list that seems to grow of its own accord. You can spot him easily enough. He is the one greeting the latecomers, rescuing the conversation from an awkward silence, and materializing beside you with the timing of a man who has developed an instinct for imminent mischief.
“Are you still alright?” A deceptively simple question. It could be an offer of another drink. It could be a discreet assessment of your condition. The host, after all, is not easily fooled. He knows who is having a good time, who needs feeding, who has been telling the same story since 2019, and who claims to be leaving shortly before ordering another round.
What he does not have, apparently, is a free evening. “I really must stop organizing these things” he says, usually while organizing the next one.
And so, the weeks ahead will find him in a familiar territory assembling the usual suspects for reunions, dinners, festive drinks, and celebrations that begin with a good plan and acquire a second act somewhere along the way.
At Stardust, we have a certain admiration for this type of person. Anyone who can get a group of adults to agree on a date, a place, and a departure time deserves a small monument, or at the very least, a very good drink.
Until then, we raise a glass to the hosts and the self-appointed keepers of a good evening.
The season ahead looks promising.
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