Holiday Hosting: What If Having People Over Is The Most Important Thing We Do This Season? | Emily Paulsen & Chelsea Fagan

Chelsea Fagan has spent years thinking about how we use our resources. As the co-founder of The Financial Diet, she's built a platform around the intersection of money, values, and the lives we actually want to live. Her book, Having People Over: A Modern Guide to Gathering, extends that thinking into our homes and the ways we've stopped using them to build community.

When we talked, one of the first things she said landed hard: Americans live in homes two to three times larger than previous generations, and yet we fill them with things instead of people. We have more space than ever. We just don't know what to do with it anymore. Or maybe we've forgotten that homes were meant to hold more than furniture and quiet evenings alone.

Chelsea sees hosting as something essential, a practice we've let slip away while telling ourselves we're too busy, too tired, too broke, or too unprepared. The truth, she said, is usually none of those things. The truth is we've made isolation feel safer than vulnerability.

What Self-Care Actually Costs

There's a version of self-care that's taken over, one that prioritizes immediate comfort above almost everything else. Chelsea called it toxic self-care, the kind that encourages us to bail on commitments the moment they feel inconvenient. Your birthday is in winter and it's cold and dark at 4:00 PM and you really don't want to leave the house. So you text your regrets and call it boundaries. You call it listening to your body. You call it taking care of yourself.

What you don't calculate is the person on the other end. The one who planned something and set a table and expected you to show up. The one who needed connection that night and didn't get it. Chelsea's point was clear: we underestimate the damage these small disappearances do, to our relationships and to ourselves. Because one day, we'll need people to show up for us. And if we've spent years teaching them that flaking is fine, that comfort always wins, we might find ourselves alone when it matters most.

She also pointed to something I hadn't connected before. Loneliness is one of the worst things for our health. Study after study shows that community, belonging, and connection are as essential as food and water. And yet we've built a culture that treats isolation like self-care and showing up like an optional extra.

I've been thinking about the times I've chosen comfort in the moment over connection over time. How many small withdrawals does it take before a friendship just fades? How many times can you say no before people stop asking?

Platonic Love Deserves More

Chelsea brought up something I hadn't quite articulated before. We've turned romantic relationships into the pinnacle of connection, and everything else gets downgraded. Your spouse becomes your best friend. Your partner is supposed to fulfill all your needs. Friendships become placeholders until you find the real thing.

She said she doesn't like when people call their spouse their best friend, because it annexes a category that deserves its own space. Platonic relationships aren't lesser versions of romantic love. They're a different kind of intimacy entirely. For most of human history, your spouse wasn't meant to be everything. That village of platonic connection around you served essential roles, especially for women. Those relationships formed an invisible netting that held life together.

When we devalue friendships, we lose that netting. We also put enormous pressure on romantic partnerships to be something they can't sustain alone. One person can't be everything. And when we try to make them, we end up isolated in ways we don't fully recognize until something breaks.

I've watched this happen with friends who disappear into relationships. The energy that used to go toward maintaining a circle of people suddenly funnels entirely into one person. And I understand it. New relationships require attention. But somewhere along the way, we started believing that was supposed to be permanent. That once you find a partner, friendships become secondary.

Chelsea's perspective reminded me that platonic relationships deserve the same protection, the same intentionality, the same showing up even when it's hard. What would change if we treated our closest friends with the care we reserve for romantic love?

The Intimacy of Adult Sleepovers

Toward the end of our conversation, Chelsea talked about adult sleepovers, and I realize how that sounds. But there's something about having someone stay over that deepens intimacy in ways a dinner party never could. You share coffee in the morning. You say goodnight before going to your separate rooms. You see each other's lives in a way that feels more honest, more vulnerable.

Chelsea pointed out that for people with children, getting away for a full weekend might not be possible. But one night? That can work. And for those of us who are childfree, we have the capacity to create these experiences. We have guest rooms that could be used. We have flexibility that makes hosting easier. She framed it as both a gift and a responsibility, the ability to open our homes and create space for people who might not have that same capacity.

I've been thinking about this a lot since we talked. How I want to use the space we have. How I want to prioritize the connections that matter. How showing up doesn't always mean going somewhere. Sometimes it means inviting people to stay.

Curious About Hosting?

Chelsea shared practical ways to make hosting feel more accessible and less about perfection. Here are a few places to begin:

Think through the five senses. Lighting should be warm and diffuse, never harsh overhead lights. Sound matters, so have a playlist ready that complements the mood. Smell can be as simple as something aromatic on the stove or unscented candles. Touch means soft places to sit, blankets, pillows. Taste is the food and drinks, but it doesn't have to be elaborate.

Set up a beverage station so guests can serve themselves. It frees up your time and makes people feel comfortable helping themselves.

Always have something out for people to nibble on when they arrive. A simple board works every time.

Choose themes loosely. A color, a season, a movie playing silently in the background with the soundtrack over the speakers. Themes don't have to be literal or expensive. They just create a frame.

Maximize your time with guests. If you're stressed in the kitchen the whole night, you might as well not have people over. The point is being with them.

Show up as a good guest. Arrive on time. Don't show up empty-handed. Offer to help. Be polite and considerate. If you're close with the host, jump in without asking. If you don't know them well, be helpful without being intrusive.

Hosting doesn't require a perfect home or a big budget. It requires presence and the willingness to let people in.

Let’s Stay Curious Together

What stayed with me after talking with Chelsea was the reminder that connection doesn't happen by accident. It requires intention, effort, and the willingness to show up even when it's easier not to. Hosting is one way to practice that. Opening your door, setting a table, creating space for people to gather. These small acts build the kind of community that holds us through everything else.

I'm still learning what it means to prioritize connection over comfort, to use the space we have, to stop waiting for perfect. But I'm starting to see that the relationships I want years from now are being built right now, in these small choices to say yes and open the door.

You can listen to Episode 56 of Curious Life of a Childfree Woman wherever you get your podcasts, and find more reflections on Instagram @curiouslifeofachildfreewoman.

Let's stay curious together.