I just realized I forgot to RSVP to a wedding. In 2009. I’m not going to do anything about it.
I can’t do anything about it. It’s like way, way, way too late. Sometimes life tosses you moments where all you can do is go, “Whelp, I’m a dick.” Not responding to a wedding invitation is very uncool, me. It’s probably even worse than that time I didn’t write any thank you cards after my high school graduation party. On the other hand, it’s probably not as bad as that time my mom had to bail me out of jail on her birthday. I make a lot of mistakes.
It’s not like I can respond now, can I? The wedding has been over for six years. They’ve been happily married this whole time. But… the return envelope does have a forever stamp on it. That’s a FOREVER stamp. Sure, you might try to tell me that forever only extends to the validity of the stamp, but the stamp is technically part of the invite itself. Ipso facto, the invite is forever. Right? Right? Don’t look at me like that.
Ugh, maybe it’s just because I’m writing this while hungry, but the dinner options look amazing. Chicken or beef? The chicken option always sounds lovely in theory, it’s the healthy choice, but it’s a fucking wedding! If not then, when else are you going to cut loose? l know I would have gone with the beef. Would. There’s that damn past tense, lingering over this whole ordeal. Fuck it. WILL. I will get the beef. When I mail this damned invite with its damned forever stamp right back to that happy couple I haven’t stayed in contact with.
You know what else? I’m going to cross out the date and time and write “your house, this weekend.” Then I’m going to show the fuck up for the wedding – at their house. Six years late. I’ll throw on a suit, bring a wonky toaster oven, and we can watch the wedding video together and pretend like it’s live. I’ll get all misty eyed and shit, toast them in their living room, and cut in for a dance with the bride. By the end of the night, I’ll be blitzed on champagne, screaming at the iPod we’ve set up as a DJ to play some fucking Usher.
Only I won’t. Because there is literally nothing worse in the world than watching a wedding video. Expect for maybe filming a wedding video. Or I guess, being an asshole who doesn’t RSVP to a wedding. Oh look Diary, I had a plus one, too! Great, so not only was I dick to the future Mr. and Mrs., but to an imaginary date that didn’t know we could have had a date, but would have been totally happy to go. Sorry imaginary date. You deserve better! I hope you’re gallivanting off to imaginary weddings in the sky.
Damnit Diary, there’s no good way to spin this one. I fucked up. My bad, yo. I forgot to RSVP to that wedding in 2009, and I’m not going to do anything about it. Because I can’t. It’s way too late.