A Definite No

Guest list issues have not spiraled out of control yet — yet being the key word here. My mother has begun to press, even after receiving a repeated “no” from me, for one of my parents’ friends who they never see anymore.

This friend of my parents’ was never a particular favorite of mine. In 1992, they did my family the extraordinary favor of driving us from Mexico (us being Mom, the four kids and my grandmother) from Mexico to Michigan. Granted, this was an incredibly nice gesture for which my family has profusely thanked them — for now over 16 years. I feel like I’m still repaying a debt. Yes, they helped my family out during our troubled times, and I really do appreciate it. But my subsequent treatment at the hands of my parents’ friends is something I’ll never forget. Or forgive.

Back in 1992, the friend my mom seeks to invite was part of a couple. Her husband has since died, but I got to know the husband all too well. From the moment he showed up on our doorstep in Mexico, he bothered me. He. Just. Stared. At. Me. All the time. It made me incredibly uncomfortable — I was going on 14, sick of being whistled at by men twice my age, sick of begin grabbed at by men old enough to be my father, trying desperately to hide the curves that I suddenly had. And then this man shows up, who is supposed to help us get from Mexico to the States, and it’s all I can do to stay hidden from his sight.

(I still get the same kind of reactions from these particular types of men, which the husband fit to a tee – older, retired or nearly there, with a wife it’s obvious they’re no longer interested in, with senses of humor that I would actually classify as “harassment”, with a genuine and alarming interest in me. At the moment, there are two men — one who I interact with on a regular basis — who give me the same creepy feeling. The other of these men may have to be invited to my wedding because he is a friend of my fiancé’s parents. It’s something I feel I can’t control; IP has promised me that he will do what he can to keep the man away from me on our wedding day. I don’t want this guy touching me, hugging me, I don’t want his wife anywhere near me commenting on my “perfect” skin. I feel like I’m in The Silence of the Lambs when around those two. Creepy.)

In order to combat whatever weird feelings he had for me, my parents’ friend decided that mocking me was the healthy alternative that would vent whatever frustrations he had. My weight, my looks, my clothes – nothing was off limits. My parents dismissed this as nothing but mild teasing, but at 14, the last thing a girl needs is some older man making fun of every little thing she does. It was extremely degrading, detrimental to my self-esteem in the extreme, and I didn’t understand why my parents insisted on subjecting me to situations in which this man would be able to tear down their oldest daughter. They still deny that he hurt me in any way, shape or form. It was just the husband being the husband — that was his sense of humor.

If this was his good side, who knows what his bad side was like?

The husband died a few years later. While I attended the memorial and wrote something that was read at his funeral, my heart wasn’t in it. I think I wrote what I wish he had been — and nice guy, which he wasn’t — and I wanted to feel bad that he had died, but I didn’t. I just felt relief because my torment was now over.

His wife’s role in all of this? To sit by, laugh at his “jokes,” and chime in with a few of her own. Their daughter also contributed some. I just couldn’t understand why this family thought I was fair game. It was hurtful, and it was terrifying to think that they could get away with this simply because my parents believed we owed them. One trip from Mexico to the States in exchange for a girl’s self-esteem? Yikes. No wonder I blocked out 1992 to 1996 from my memory. The worst time in my life thanks to such a jarring move, made even worse by this man and his family who used me as the butt of all their jokes. It was a bad time to be me.

Consequently, I don’t want anyone from that family at my wedding. They make me uncomfortable, they always bring up the husband and how funny it was when he used to “tease” me (or tear me down, take your pick), and I’m expected to grin and bear all of this. This is the one invite requested by my parents that I have said an absolute “no” to. However, my mother keeps coming back to them. “We really should invite M,” she’ll begin before I cut her off with a firm “no”. No matter how many times she pretends to acquiesce, I always hear the request cropping up again. This time, it’s because of the creepy guy who might be at my wedding. If he gets to go, why not M (and her family — my mother never says this, but her daughter, son-in-law, and grandkids would be a part of the equation)?

Why does my mother want me to be doubly uncomfortable? Wouldn’t she be for minimizing the factors that make me anxious? But no, she wants to add people who drive me absolutely bonkers and dredge up the feelings of low self-worth I had when I was a teenager.

So my answer to the question of whether M and her family can attend our wedding?

Absolutely not.