Three Friendsgivings, two family Thanksgivings, and one lifetime of experience have awarded me a title that I wear with honor: undetected freeloader. Through extensive practice, I have accumulated a copious amount of successful freeloading tips and tricks to use this Thanksgiving. To celebrate the season of gratitude, I will be sharing my secrets to giving nothing and receiving everything — which, in itself, is something to be grateful for.
Approach 1: The Grandpa
My grandfather, Charles Gawle, was a master of diversion. He crowned me immediately at birth with the adoring pet name of “freeloader.” This nickname, paired with a growl and the crooked point of his hooked finger, instilled fear and culpability in my younger self. He would call me and anyone in his vicinity a “freeloader” to distract from the fact that he arrived at every family function empty handed. At these family gatherings, he had a mouth full of delicious food and a mouthful of accusations. While he deflected his truth — basking in the hidden glory of being the world’s sneakiest freeloader — his nickname-victims walked around stunned and speechless, yet completely oblivious to his freeloading. We can all learn a little lesson from Grandpa: diversion of attention.
After years of being labeled a freeloader by my grandfather, I slowly started to embrace it. After all, it is in my blood, traced back to my grandfather and more closely, inherited from my mother. When I was in the womb, my mother was gifted a retractable fork by her best friends because she always wanted “a bite” of everyone else’s food, which we all know means more than just one. Since she was freeloading while pregnant, I was born a freeloading baby.
Approach 2: The Rodent
If you aren’t ready to point fingers, you can also try giving an Irish goodbye partway through the night: sneak out of a function without telling anyone, not even the host. You are a ghost. You are a thief. You are a shadow. Lay low, speak to as few people as possible, and use the restroom often. Peer behind the wall, make sure the coast is clear, and when nobody is looking, you either sprint or crawl toward the food and stack up a fat plate to go devour in the privacy of a hidden corner only you know of, like a mouse. If you happen to find yourself cornered by the question, “What did you bring?” you suddenly have really bad diarrhea. If you’re brave enough, you can also point, throw something, ask, “Did you see that?” and run away.
Approach 3: Love bombing
I am an incredibly skilled love bomber — but not the kind of love bombing that you’re probably imagining. Instead of showering a new romantic partner with excessive attention and affection, I take that ideology and apply it to being an attendee. My version consists of being the best, most perfect dinner guest to distract people from the fact that I brought nothing. You can use some of my favorite micro-love bombing acts: listen intently, laugh at every joke, moan while you eat, use small plates to justify getting fourths, and flood the host with compliments. A few of my favorite phrases to use are: “This is the best [insert food] I have ever tasted,” “Wow, your home is beautiful,” or “That is so interesting; please tell me more.” Trust me, nobody will remember that you didn’t bring the dish you promised to when you filled out the RSVP form. They will be too distracted by how special you made them feel — and maybe you’ll score even more invitations to potluck events.
Freeloaders are the target of so much shame at functions like these, but what’s really so wrong about maximizing the possibility of getting free stuff during the holiday seasons? I truly wish I could offer some whole-hearted, useful advice about dealing with the shame people may push onto you, but I cannot. If you get caught red-handed with a loaded plate and questioned about what dish you brought, you just have to own your truth. Yes, I am a freeloader; yes, I brought nothing; and yes, I am eating a ton of food. Use this as an opportunity to crack a joke and get some laughs out of what may otherwise be an embarrassing situation.
There’s no point in fixing what isn’t broken. So what if I bring nothing edible to the function? It’s not like I came completely empty-handed. I brought the positive energy, my mom’s freeloader fork, and a hell of an appetite. People might not remember the dish you didn’t bring, but they will definitely remember your warm and uplifting energy.
