An Open Letter to My Cousins

Editor’s Note: To those who are actually thinking about writing and sending a letter like this to people who think they’re invited: DON’T. Read this here.

Hi! What’s it been? Eighteen years, right? Wow, I haven’t talked to you in so freaking long. That’s, like, nearly two decades! What’s up in your lives?

My life? Well, this summer I’m getting married to a wonderful man by the name of IP. He’s really kickass and, really, you should call him The IP because he’s just at that level of coolness, using a definite article and all. But that’s simply who he is: The. To expound a bit more on the point, the man is fantabulous. Intelligent. Funny. Understanding. Sarcastic. Great conversationalist. Magnifico. Italian. Hubba, hubba. And he says “water” in the cutest way.

You may have heard of my impending nuptials from your parents, my aunts and uncles, who had received invitations to this momentous, auspicious occasion. You, alas, did not receive invitations for two reasons:

1. I have not talked to you in nearly two decades and you know we really don’t get along.
2. I have neither the space nor the budget to accommodate you, your spouses and your children. By my last count, I have at least two dozens cousins. I think all of you are married and have kids. No freaking way, dude.

I mean, no offense meant, but seriously: you expect me to invite you? And you, cousin I seriously dislike and have issues with since you couldn’t go two seconds without making fun of me when I was a kid? What’s your problem? Why are you calling up all the other cousins asking if they received an invitation? Does the fact that only uncles and aunts received invites not clue you into the fact that you are not invited, that we are limited to aunts and uncles only? Why the fuck are you making trouble? Why do you insist? I never, ever talk to you, and never, ever will unless it’s absolutely vital. Why would you automatically assume that you’re invited to our wedding?

Oh, yeah, Mexican culture. Well, see, there are good and bad aspects to every culture. Expecting to be invited to a wedding is a bad aspect, you see? We see our wedding as a celebration of our commitment to one another with our nearest and dearest bearing witness. You? Are nowhere near and definitely not dear. It’s also a tight economy, and IP and I are not interested in putting the national average of $28,000 into a Michigan wedding. Inviting all of you? Would probably push us into that range. And what’s more, you’d probably expect to stay at my mom and dad’s house, free of charge, instead of paying for your own goddamn hotel. And guess what? They don’t have the room for that many people. Sorry, but it’s true. You can’t camp out in the living room, either, unless you really want to piss off my dad, who just wants to watch the news in peace.

(Besides, my dad doesn’t even really like y’all.)

So I would appreciate it if you would stop playing telephone, whispering about how you’re expecting an invitation. You’re not getting one. You, cousin I dislike, will definitely not be getting one. I’m prepared to make an exception for a cousin who expresses a genuine desire to come and hasn’t been playing phone tag with everyone else. But really, let’s be real: I don’t know any of you and being this distant has worked out well for us, hasn’t it? So let’s just stick to it, no?

Just because we’re related by blood does not obligate me to like you. It definitely does not obligate us to invite you to our wedding. So please stop with the chit-chat about whether or not you’ll be invited. It’s a straightforward no.

Get over it.

Sincerely,

WordNerd