By Emma 
Because potlucks really are the worst.
Once a month my church holds a potluck. My wife LOVES it. I, on the other hand, DO NOT.
In case you’re unfamiliar with potlucks, let me tell you, they are the devil. Basically people get together and each person brings a meal or dessert or a virus. The idea is that it should be homemade. It’s a wonderful way to get a free meal made in a questionable kitchen, with unknown ingredients, that might just cause you to spend the next several days with diarrhea.
Does that sound about right? Am I being too harsh? Does this make me a germaphobe?
Let me go on, because there’s more.
The reason my wife loves the once a month potluck is because she gets to socialize, which is another problem I have with potlucks. I would say, on the whole, most people see me as a communicative, charming, outgoing person. But let’s be real, it’s a mask I wear day in and day out, and attending a social gathering means I have to wear that mask even longer. It’s like, “Clint, we’re going to the potluck. Please put on the normal, social, enjoyable version of yourself. You know, the one that makes you all sweaty and anxious.”
Naturally, we bring the whole family to this thing. All three kids, ages 5 to 12 look at each and every dish lined up along those endless tables of homemade meals as though they were the most disgusting thing on the planet. They turn each and every item down, telling us that it looks gross, holding out until the last table with all the cookies. Then they fill their plates with sugary simple carbs, and I’m too tired from socializing and scrutinizing each dish for potential contamination to complain, so I just let them sugar it up. Then they go through all the wonderment of kids crashing from the top of a sugar rush — all in a public social setting.
Is that enough to go on?
Did I prove my point?
I know there are people who are like my wife and love potlucks. I think, socially, the common understanding is that potlucks are a wonderful way to build community and that most people enjoy them.
Listen to me: You are wrong in that assumption.
Many people don’t like potlucks, and we are sick of silently going along with it because we don’t want to look like the potluck party pooper.
The social pressure around potlucks is ridiculous. If you don’t bring something, you are a freeloader. If you bring something that no one eats, you feel like a dishonorable cook. If you bring something store bought, it means you are lazy or unable to whip something up. And listen, I don’t like to cook. I’m not good at cooking, but I don’t know if I want to add that to my social media profile. I doubt I look like the kind of person who can really work the stove, or even a blender, but I do enjoy keeping that mystery alive. Every time I show up to a potluck with a box of store bought cookies, or a bag of Doritos, I feel like everyone knows I suck. Then I get the pleasure of reliving the social shame at 2 a.m. for the rest of my life.
Rest assured, I am not alone. Check out this viral assortment of tweets from caveofbeauty who went to a potluck at work. One of her coworkers, and I kid you not, brought a bag of raw chicken and cooked it right in the office. He didn’t wash his hands before or after, and then contaminated the whole office with salmonella.
The part I find the most troubling is that it basically brought to life what I assume happens behind the scenes of every single potluck meal. Yes, I am sure that some people actually handle their food properly. But I also know that many people don’t, and the fact that I don’t know makes me assume that every single thing I eat at a potluck might actually be contaminated. Basically potlucks are a lot like Russian roulette.
Or this discussion thread titled “My coworkers are offended because I will not participate in potlucks. I don’t eat from other people. Am I being irrational?”
No, you are not! There is nothing wrong with you. There is something wrong with the system.
I know some of you are wondering why I continue, month after month, to attend the potluck at my church. Well, it’s simple really. I go because I love my wife, and she loves going. This is not me blaming her for anything. This is just the reality of marriage. Each month I go to the potluck. I don’t eat anything, and everyone looks at me like I’m a jerk for turning down their wonderful offerings. I manage the children so my wife can eat and socialize because she’s into that sort of thing, the whole time longing for it to be over and imagining a world without potlucks. I do not think this makes me a bad person. I think it makes me a realist.
A mother and lover of all things practical. My blog covers about motherhood by exploring all areas of life. Our tips and tricks help the large community to do more in less time so they can spend time enjoying happy, healthy families.
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