The Art of Revenge

I’m not sure if the correct response is that we’ve been uninvited or excluded, but a family member is throwing a big deal at a destination wedding nearby, and my husband and I found out we are not on the guest list through the RSVP function on The Knot. I got a tip and went to see for myself.

Not only does this function inform one that they are not invited, but it also tells everyone else that you are not invited. In other words, you could plug in names all day long and find out who’s invited and who’s not invited. There’s no surprise.  Everyone arriving at the wedding will know. 

But I thought the point of having a big out-of-league wedding, shower, or birthday party for a small child was to invite beloved AND annoying family members so you could show off your perceived elevated lifestyle.  Rub it right into their noses in front of everyone else who knows you are coming.  Or act like you don’t see them when they show up. Not acting like you don’t see them (even though you talk about seeing them later) the truly mature way to settle a score in front of children you want to influence, seems to be more prevalent these days. The other way, picking up the table card and realizing when you find it you’ve been seated with total strangers while the rest of your family is nearby tittering, is the old-school way. 

But since we aren’t invited, they can’t embarrass us with their imagined better lifestyle or non-political choices. That seems to be the crux of the matter: my husband and I have failed to live up to their standards.  But we won’t be there. They won’t be able to make fun of us for being teachers, democrats, tree huggers, non-drinkers, one-car owners, or Biden voters. They won’t be able to say, “He’s got a pool in his backyard!” or brag about the giant corporate cafeteria with a mile-long salad buffet included in their salary package. 

Years ago, twice, I found out our niece was being given a shower without being invited. We had no idea she was pregnant. I got a forwarded invite via email without my name listed, and I found out later that they were hoping I would show up anyway, knock on the door, and find out no one was there. It was fake. 

The problem was I found out about it from a third party and now while reading it, the plan had backfired. 

The sound of silence on the other side must have been too excruciating because the absolute worst text I have ever gotten in this regard was from another family member asking if I had gotten the second shower invite and if I was planning on coming, even though they knew it was fake. 

Oh, dumb me, I thought a young person was being sincere about caring about her Uncle Bob and me. Now I’d have to figure out who taught her how to be this way for our sake. 

Ah, but soon the pandemic hit hard. 

I don’t regret finding out that there is even more creepy technology, like the RSVP confirmation box on The Knot. Now I know.  Now it’s a fair exchange. 

I took some beautiful photos of this soon-to-be married couple years ago. I know they thought they were beautiful because they told me so. Again, dumb old Auntie me: I believed them. But now I can’t believe them at all. I found copies uploaded by them. I guess no one else takes photos of them except me.

Certainly, the adage: a bride and groom should have the wedding they want.  And I don’t have a problem being excluded. But this public RSVP box on The Knot makes it easy to figure out that one isn’t invited, which is the point. 

When my husband and I got married, everyone in both of our families was invited. Some came. Some didn’t show up.  But I wasn’t out to get back at anyone. Madly in love and wanting to spend every last year we had left together was the point. I got the photos to prove it. 

If it’s unclear or you are a new family determined not to raise children who do this, you might want to read this book.