A friend of mine sent me a link to a Jezebel article yesterday that dissects the apparent LOL-fest that is the “Don’t Save the Date” card. What the hell is that, you ask? (Don’t worry, so did I.) Literally speaking, it’s some sort of notice you send to people you’re “friends” with but don’t want and/or can’t afford to invite to your wedding. Uh-huh. Whatever helps you sleep at night… Because what these cards are metaphorically saying is “eff you.” Really, you may as well just Xerox your middle finger at Kinko’s and scribble, “Dear “friend.” I like you, but also not really, because I want to tell you all about my awesome wedding, but I don’t actually want you to come. Also I’m registered at Bloomingdales, so, yanno, pay me, bitch.” (I don’t know for sure if these cards are supposed to include registration information, but, really, since they’re so rude already, they might as well.)
I won’t go too far into the inherent problems of Don’t Save the Dates (mostly because Jezebel already did a pretty decent job at it), but anyone who thinks these cards are a good idea must possess American Psycho levels of narcissism. Not to burst anyone’s bubble, but pop! Not everyone you’ve ever met in life is dying to come to your wedding. And no one you know in life wants to purchase you a gift and not even get a fucking cocktail in return.
So, where in wedding hell did this idiotic idea come from? I can’t imagine any rational individual would ever think of this, so my guess is that, if this is becoming a thing (and luckily, after some pretty thorough Googlin’, I found little evidence to support this is actually common), it’s got to be the brainchild of the Wedding Industrial Complex. This whole thing just reeks of unicorn butt barf, just like two-thirds of the other drivel one can find on a WIC-generated checklist. Remember when the average wedding in America cost $25,000? Now, it costs $25,000 plus the cost of Don’t Save the Dates. And friendships. Jesus…