Pomegranate is our motif

No, I’m not getting married. But I am planning a party. dancing

Mistress Elaine and I had this brilliant idea to combine our birthday celebrations because:

  1. We share a lot of friends so we’d be inviting the same people
  2. It’s economical (and we’re cheapskates? Haha.)

The invitations are going to look like basketball tickets and the colors would be orange/red-orange. Or is it “pomegranate”? I was mortified at first because I thought I would be required to wear orange, which would make me look like spoiled pea soup. But it’s just the paper. *whew*

One thing is stressing us out: the Guestlist.

We want a cool party–with good food, overflowing drinks, some… um… tea, loud music, lots of dancing, and lots of young people who hopefully have enough fashion sense to not wear boring T-shirts and jeans. We want our twenty-something friends to enjoy themselves, socialize normally, and to feel their age and not like 16 year olds with a 10 o’clock curfew.

But we also have a lot of married friends with kids. Lots and lots of kids. If we invite ALL our friends including the ones with families, the place will turn from Bungalow 8-ish to a backyard barbecue with kids running around. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and their parents but that would totally destroy the point of the party. It’s like having chaperones and your kid siblings with you at the prom! And the last thing we want are conservative parent-types looking on disapprovingly while our guy-friends attempt to widen their network by talking to our girl-friends.

We’ll probably be offending a lot of people, including colleagues and our parents’ friends, who’d be wondering why we didn’t invite them.

Isn’t this a terrifying thought? It’s still okay to be married because you can drag your husband/wife along with you anywhere. But as soon as you get kids… BOOM! You’re virtually a social outcast, people would hesitate about inviting you to non-family-centric events, not because they don’t love you anymore but because they don’t want 5-year olds drinking the spiked punch. And you’d probably decline to come so that’s just a waste of printed invitations.

Obviously, I won’t be ready for kids for years and years. angel I’m so glad.

But I still have to trim the guestlist.


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