show up empty handed? never!

so here's the deal with all the cakes...

Never Show Up Empty-Handed

Last night, on my way to dinner with friends, I felt a familiar urge: stop by Cookbook for flowers. It was reflexive, but I then realized it was an old habit that had now faded.

When I first moved to LA in 2020, I bought flowers there (then $10, now $17) before most gatherings. I'm not sure if this is a Midwestern trait or something from my upbringing, but I was taught to never show up empty-handed. Somewhere along the way, I took this to an extreme—bringing a gift anytime I hung out with someone, as if I needed to justify being there.

I realized how ingrained this was when I brought a second date his favorite chili oil (I have the oil stain on my favorite vintage trench coat to prove it). Often what I gave wasn’t even personal, it was what I had, like a case of KIND bars during the 6 years I worked for that company.

As money got tighter, these offerings became less relevant—often things the recipient wouldn’t even want. But they weren’t for them; they were for me. A way to compensate for my own feelings of inadequacy, to prove my worth through food, drink, or flowers.

In 2022, the flowers became cakes. It started as a way to ensure everyone had something to stick a candle into to wish upon. But soon it became my security blanket. At a party, the cake is the most important dish to pass, which made me feel like a critical guest. When a stranger said, “Were you the one with the cake at Sophie’s party? I wasn’t there, but I saw you on Instagram,” I’d become the girl with the most cake.

At some point, I started dreading invites—not because I didn’t want to go, but because it meant I'd be up late baking to ease my social anxiety.

Last night, however, when I noticed the old flower buying impulse, I realized I'd changed. I went empty-handed to that dinner—makeupless and a little melancholy. I wasn’t masking my flaws; I was allowing them.

My friends won’t remember if I brought flowers, but hopefully, they’ll remember how it felt to have me there.