Commit Thyself.

Dear Evite Peeps,

Blow up the "maybe" RSVP option. I implore you. I want people to commit. No wishy-washy, hmmm-I-dunno stuff. I'm tired of the mind games. My guests are hedging because you let them.

Dear Guests,
Commit, damn you! You don't know how lucky you are to have been invited in the first place. If you were me, you'd understand.

The "maybe" link bothers me because I was such a loser growing up. If I got asked to go anywhere or do anything, there was no debate involved. The only answer was, "Hell yes! Definitely! Are you sure you meant to invite me? Well, I'm coming no matter what because I have nothing else to do. Ever!"

I harbor petty resentment at the chosen ones who can say "maybe" because they're cool. Life's not fair. The beautiful people get to go through life without deciding.

Do you want to go to the prom with me? Maybe.
(A few other hot ones might ask, so let me wait and see, then choose)

Will you marry me? Hmm...maybe.
(I should stop sleeping around first.)

Do you want to have kids? Um, maybe.
(Now that I know you have a hairy back, let's not procreate until you fully evolve.)

Is there something stuck in my teeth? Maybeeeeeeeeeee.
(I think it would be funny if you looked like an asshole each time you opened your mouth.)

Did you sleep with my best friend? Mayb--- NO!
(Sometimes a maybe won't do.)

My husband is fortunate (and cute*) enough to have been a "maybe" all his life. That's why, when he proposed, I said, "Hell yes! Definitely! Are you sure you meant to ask me? Well, I'm marrying you no matter what because no one else will have me!" I snatched that ring from his hand like a vulture swooping down on its prey and superglued that sucker to my finger.

His "maybe-ness" holds true to this day. But, it's evolving. Rather than answering "maybe," he says "ok." And, it drives me nuts.

Do you want ice cream? Okay.
No. No. No. Not okay. If you want some of this frozen bliss, you need to commit. I am not scooping anything until you fall to the floor crying and screaming hallelujah, praise be cookies 'n' cream. Yes! Yes! Yes! I am saved!

Do you want to go to dinner? Okay.
Oh no. Don't you go Switzerland on me now. Are you hungry or not? Do I need to talk to the tummy? Do you know what happens when you play with a hungry woman? You get your fingers bitten off. Or worse.

Should I get my nipple pierced? Okay.
Hmmm...me thinks he's just ignoring me now.

I know I should lighten up and give the maybe's a break, but I can't. I'm bitter. So, what's it gonna be guests, yes or no? Don't sleep on it. Commit thyself.

*Mother's Day is approaching and sometimes (like my parents) Mike actually reads my posts. "Maybe" he'll buy me something extra nice from the kids even though I told him not to. Of course, I was lying. I want a pony.