Let me start by saying that I love my friends deeply. So deeply, in fact, that my body seems to conveniently forget past trauma at certain points and treats me like I am clueless and somehow want this.

The scenario usually begins the exact same way. A friend or acquaintance (and honestly, those are the ones I fear most) asks if we would mind having some company.

And we, my husband and I, as people with a very real problem saying no when we absolutely should, always say yes.

What could possibly go wrong?

So, lately, we came up with a strategy. We only accept a minimum of two people visiting at the same time (it is not like there is more space than that in our tiny city flat), and they must be adults who are capable of going out, exploring, and doing touristy things on their own.

Now let me retrace my steps for a moment. When I was in my early twenties, I left my home country and moved to another part of the continent. Bear with me, this will make sense.

Why two at a time?

Because that gives us just enough space to focus on our day-to-day lives without becoming full-time babysitters.

Let me take you a step back again. Most of the friends who come to visit do not speak the local language, so they feel anxious about going out alone in the city. Which, once again, creates its own set of complications.

So… we came up with a system.

It is beautifully simple in theory and wildly optimistic in practice.

We tell ourselves: They will go out. They will explore. They will entertain each other. We will still have our routines, our quiet mornings, our evenings where no one asks what the Wi-Fi password is. (which by the way, is on a bright pink post-it just above their designated bed area.

This is the lie we tell ourselves.

Because what usually happens is this: one of them is tired, the other is “just going to rest for a bit” and suddenly they are both on our couch, staring at us like we are the official Tourism Office of This Household.

And that is when I realize… we have done it again.

Are we bad hosts?

Do we do something to make up for them being… bored?

When do we feed them!?

Should I make an awkward joke?

How about that system?

A fragile, optimistic, emotionally ambitious system.

A system that assumes everyone is an independent adult with a sense of direction, a working Google Maps, and zero interest in watching us live our lives in pajamas.

A system that forgets that once someone enters your home, you are no longer a person.

And yet… we keep opening the door.

Because hope is a dangerous drug.