Did Quarantine Kill the Birthday Dinner?

Abby,* a writer in San Francisco, will never forget a particular birthday dinner in 2014: She was 21, with no income other than a small stipend from a college job, and was invited to attend a celebration for a close friend at a sprawling, lavish restaurant on the west side of Manhattan. Abby didn’t enjoy drinking, nor did she really want to waste money on an overpriced meal, but the pressure to be a good friend by joining in on the “fun” was high. “At a birthday dinner, you can't order a seltzer and no food because it will bum everyone out and make them think about how you have no money and resent being there,” she tells me. “So I ordered one drink.”

When the bill came, someone suggested everyone split the cost—including the birthday girl’s meal and drinks. Abby ended up paying $54 for a single cocktail. “I promised myself I would never split a group check again, no matter who I offended,” Abby says. “But of course I have. Again and again.”

Did you just get chills? The tyranny of the big birthday dinner—a “celebration” usually involving six or more people ordering as much food and drink as they’d like at a restaurant, cost be damned—is a phenomenon that many people, especially women, have been subjected to throughout adulthood. (At least, based on my nonscientific research.) I’ve attended several. The one where I ordered a side of chips and salsa claiming I “wasn’t that hungry” because I didn’t have the cash to pay for both an over-the-top dinner and the night of drinking that followed. The one where I sat next to friends of friends and had nothing to talk about after explaining what I did for a living. The one where I spontaneously started stress-sweating as I handed over my credit card with the promise that everyone would Venmo me their share.

For Abby, it wasn’t even the preposterous $54 cocktail that made the entire experience so miserable: “The feeling of sitting around the table with everyone knowing how much money this is costing, but feeling that this is supposed to be so fun is really a lot of pressure and awful.”

As a novel—and highly contagious—virus overtook every aspect of our lives for over a year, few industries have been harder hit than restaurants. At the outset, the CDC advised against large group gatherings. Many states issued restrictions on indoor and outdoor dining, and as a result, the way we celebrate has unconditionally changed. And in a time of so much uncertainty and devastation, losing something as traditional as a birthday party could feel like the last straw to some people (you know the type). We’ve been raised as a society to believe that birthdays are meant to be our special day—one during which all is right with the world and everyone must show you how much they love you—so to have it pass by unacknowledged wasn’t easy for everyone.

But we did find work-arounds: cocktails over Zoom, a responsible picnic, a road trip with your two closest friends, negative COVID tests in hand. It wasn’t always ideal, but it was something. But no, inviting 12 girlfriends to sit in a crowded, loud, overhyped restaurant was not happening. And for lots of us, it probably won’t for a long time—even when things start to get back to normal—given the arduous exercise of unlearning behaviors we’ve been forced to adopt this year, like social distancing. Adding to the confusion is the uneven restaurant restrictions that vary state by state: In Rhode Island, for example, no more than two households can be seated together indoors. And while some states (Texas, Arkansas) are operating at 100% capacity, others are limiting to no more than 25% or 50% (New York, Colorado). In certain regions of California, indoor dining is still restricted altogether.

Regardless of where your state stands, I vote we leave the big birthday dinner behind in a post-pandemic world. I promise I’m not against celebrating my wonderful friends or even toasting myself when my birthday rolls around. But we all deserve Oscars for the amount of times we’ve been unwell, physically or mentally, and managed to put on a happy face in the name of being a good friend. My husband said I was being a social Scrooge for putting this all down in words, then proceeded to recall a birthday dinner after which several attendees got food poisoning due to an unfortunate choice of restaurant. I rest my case.

Of course everyone deserves, at minimum, a day when they can expect to feel special and acknowledged. And yes, the option to not give in to the ritual of bill splitting is always there. Sonia, a former lawyer in Brooklyn, told me about one birthday dinner in which a guest cheerfully ordered a side of brussels sprouts, drank water all night, and calmly handed over $20 cash at the end of the meal. But the social pressure—this myth that you must always be having fun and that it’s cheap or weird to not chip in all the way—remained: “I was the one drinking wine, having a pit in my stomach the whole time about how big the bill would be, and wishing I had the fortitude to just be the brussels sprouts girl,” Sonia said.

Even if you love celebrating with an elaborate event, things can still go wrong, leaving the birthday girl miserable and afraid of looking ungrateful if she admits her feelings. Sara, a writer and self-described “birthday bitch” in Los Angeles, cringes as she remembers a birthday dinner thrown for her by her parents. Because it was a surprise, everyone had already been seated at the table when she arrived. She found herself parked next to two acquaintances her parents had invited. “All my other friends were at the other end of the table laughing,” she tells me. “I started crying.”

Years later, a friend of Sara’s wanted to turn her 21st birthday into an entire weekend of activities—a brunch, followed by an apartment party in the afternoon, and closing with a dinner at a high-end restaurant in Malibu. During the meal, Sara mentally prepared herself for a large bill as she watched the birthday girl, Alex, order every expensive drink and dish on the menu. And then came the presents: “Because I had paid for the bulk of the afternoon party, I got her a small gift with a really nice handwritten card. I’ve never seen someone look so disgusted.”

Between those two experiences, Sara realized she never wanted to put her birthday planning on to other people again. “I’ve seen what it’s like when your expectations are so high but you also want the validation of other people planning [a party] for you. That’s just a recipe for disaster.”

Other women I talked to echoed this: After years of overpriced big group dinners, the consensus seems to be that—when everyone feels safe to gather—a low-key meal with three or four of your closest people at a restaurant that reasonably fits everyone’s budget seemed to be the best scenario for all.

Or you can just eat the cost yourself if you’re hell-bent on being the guest of honor. Perrie, my colleague at Glamour, tells me that even though she’s not a birthday person, if she ever decided she wanted a big group dinner, she’d be the one treating. “When I was in my 20s and going to endless birthday meals and, later, weddings, I remember my mother making a remark about how, if you’re the one asking people to celebrate you with a dinner or by being a bridesmaid, you should pick up the tab,” she says. “If you can’t, that’s fine. But then don’t organize a party for yourself and at least not chip in, and don’t expect people to be excited to spend their own money on a dress you pick out for your wedding.”

Now that everyone’s had to celebrate at least one birthday in quarantine, my hope is that this time has dispelled the myth that every one must be big. We’ve all had to get creative and lower our expectations—and it’s a grieving process. For most of us, the real sadness is about physically not being able to see our loved ones rather than about some silly meal.

This past birthday I cried and felt sorry for myself because my only celebration was a small cheers over FaceTime. Then I cried more because I was ashamed I felt this way—there are bigger problems in this world than my birthday not being properly celebrated. So I said goodnight to my husband and sat alone with a glass of wine while watching London Hughes’s comedy special on Netflix. It was how I might have spent any other Friday night, and it was...kind of great.

Even when it is safe to start planning birthday extravaganzas again, anxiety about large gatherings won’t disappear overnight. Plus, given how much the pandemic has impacted people financially, it’s more vital than ever to be conscious of the fact that not everyone at the table will be able to evenly split a giant bill and that therefore friends might decline the invite altogether. No matter how you slice it, the birthday dinner as we know it probably won’t be a viable option for a long time. And is sitting in a loud, expensive restaurant only talking to whoever is next to you really worth it? Host a small dinner party at your house, organize a BYOB trivia night, or book a weekend getaway with just you and your partner—there are so many ways to celebrate. And if you're still dying for that birthday dinner at the loud, expensive restaurant? Fine. Just keep the guest count at four or less.

Anna Moeslein is the senior entertainment editor at Glamour. Follow her on Instagram @annamoeslein.

*Some names have been changed to protect the social standing of all those involved.

Originally Appeared on Glamour