30 Reasons I Didn’t Want to Be Invited To Your Wedding Anyway

  1. I’d need to get you a gift.
  1. I’d need to worry about what kind of gift I’m going to get you, and I’m going to lose sleep over it.
  1. I’d need to employ Google to find out what I should spend on your gift, and thankfully there are websites that help determine exactly how much your friendship is worth, based on the length of time you’ve known one another, category of relationship (friendship, coworker, immediate family, extended, etc.), and the type of wedding you’re having (destination, formal, large, small, etc.), and I hate science.
  1. You may have a registry, and then I’d need to justify to myself spending $90 on a cake plate that I’m 90% certain you’ll never use.
  1. I’d need something to wear.
  1. I’d need to decide, based on who I assume will be attending, if I can wear something I’ve already worn.
  1. Contingent on 6, I would possibly need to buy something, and shopping for anything that’s not jeans is stressful, because breasts.
  1. I may need a date, and this is dependent on whether (a) dates are allowed, and (b) whether or not this is the kind of wedding I’d like to bring a date to. If it’s a large wedding and I will know many people, I don’t always need a date. If it’s a small wedding and I know many people, I may not even want a date. If it’s a large or small wedding, but I won’t know many people, I better bring someone to banter with quietly during your slideshow. This decision requires great assessment, you see.
  1. If I opt to bring a date, who will I bring? Do I bring my talkative, long-time friend who can hold their own in a room? Or do I bring someone whose job is simply to look good standing next to me in photos and smoke with me outside?
  1. If I do not bring a date, I’d need to prepare talking points to use with strangers. “Did you know too much soy milk is really bad for you? Here’s why…”
  1. Does the wedding require travel? Being that I’ve moved cross-country, and have spent the last two years moving, making friends here and there, the answer is probably yes.
  1. I’d have to decide which expenses I can cut back on in the three months leading up to your big day so that attending doesn’t cause me to have to skip my rent payment.
  1. Is the wedding in my hometown? If yes, I also have to extend my trip by a few days to see all of the friends and family there who are not invited to your wedding. If not, where the hell are we going? Is it Sandals? Please don’t say Sandals.
  1. If you have planned a destination wedding, and it’s somewhere warm, I’d have to buy a bathing suit, which is stressful, because breasts.
  1. If 14 applies, I’d also have to include the cost of lodgings during my stay. Have the bride and groom negotiated a group rate, or are they (a) rich, (b) oblivious, or (c) both?
  1. If 15 applies, and I’ve decided to vote yes on 9, do I bring my talkative, long-time friend who can hold their own in a room? Or do I bring someone whose job is simply to look good standing next to me in a Speedo, and who will smoke with me poolside? Or do I bring someone who is independently wealthy?
  1. I’d have to get you a card.
  1. I’d have to write in it.
  1. I’d have to decide whether or not you’re the type of couple who actually reads their wedding cards, because if you are, the pressure is on. As your writer friend (or cousin, or coworker, etc.) you will be expecting something thoughtful, something inspiring and heart-felt, and I had better deliver (especially if I didn’t spring for the cake plate).
  1. With this pressure, I’d probably have to buy two cards, so I can have a back up card to write in in the event I screw up the first one. Tack that on to the expenses.
  1. I’d have to decide what I want to eat for dinner, four months in advance. Which is ridiculous. I may feel like chicken cordon bleu tonight, while filling out my card, but maybe I will want the sirloin on that day.
  1. I’d have to sit through an hour of sentimental speeches that make even me feel fuzzy and warm.
  1. I’d have to eat my incredible dessert. And the desserts that were deserted by others at my table.
  1. I’d have to marvel at your dress, and raise my eyebrows in approval at his handsome tux.
  1. I’d have to squish my face up real tight so as not to let the tears show when your father gives you away.
  1. I’d have to dance to the Gypsy Kings. Like a professional.
  1. I’d have to visit the “photo booth” more times than the other guests because those hats are just so funny.
  1. I’d have to come up with a really cleaver portmanteau using both of your last names to use as a hashtag for Instagram.
  1. I’d have to go home late that night with sore feet and a renewed faith in love and partnership.
  1. I’d have to miss out on the taste of sour grapes, a flavour I’ve grown so fond of, and settle for real, fresh grapes, from the kick ass cheese table you’re probably going to set up. And I fucking love cheese and grapes.

But really, it’s no big deal.

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