Good morning, darlings. We are easing back in with a few people who have confused friendship with open enrollment, communication with performance art and a birthday party with the Jerry Springer stage.
Sassy,
I invited six friends to dinner for my birthday. One texted that he was bringing a plus-one. Then he arrived with his boyfriend and two friends “who were already in the neighborhood.” I was too stunned to say anything and paid for appetizers I never ordered. Am I allowed to be mad, or is this just what happens when you book a table downtown?
– Addie Tion
Oh, Addie, Your friend did not bring a plus-one. He opened a small branch office at your birthday dinner. A plus-one is one additional person, not a roving pack of grown adults looking for table service and jalapeño poppers.
Yes, you are allowed to be mad. He turned a hosted dinner into a surprise expense, then acted as though your reservation came with overflow seating and a catering budget from the City of Dallas. The problem is not that he has friends. Congratulations to him on being so beloved. The problem is that he volunteered your money and your table without asking.
Send a breezy but clear text: “I loved seeing everyone, but I was surprised you brought three extra guests. Please ask me first next time, especially for a reservation.” Then, when the next birthday rolls around, make the invitation specific: “I have seats for the people named here.” That may feel severe, but so is paying for strangers’ truffle fries while pretending it is festive.
Hi Sassy,
My friend group has a chat where one man replies to everything with a thumbs-up, then sends separate texts complaining about whoever made the plan. Last week he said brunch was too expensive, never said so in the chat, then told three people he felt “excluded.” How do I tell him to use his words without starting World War III?
– Marty Red
Marty, sweetheart, Your friend is treating the group chat like the United Nations, except the delegates are discussing eggs Benedict and he is leaking to the press. A thumbs-up is not communication. It is a little digital shrug from somebody hoping everyone else will do the emotional labor.
Do not convene a tribunal. Just say it once, where the behavior happens: “If a plan does not work for you, please say so here. Side conversations make it impossible to know what you actually want.” That is not cruel. It is adult supervision with decent punctuation.
If he says he feels excluded, ask what he needed that he did not say. He may have a real answer. He may also discover that vague resentment is not an RSVP. Either way, you are not required to become a psychic medium because a grown man cannot type, “Brunch is out of my budget this week.”
Help Me, Sassy,
At my birthday party, my ex arrived with someone new and spent the whole night acting like I should be grateful he came. Near the end, he announced that he was “finally happy” loud enough for the patio to hear. My friends wanted to throw him out. I told them not to make a scene, but now I am furious. Did I underreact?
– Carmen Down
Carmen, You did not underreact. You simply chose dignity in the moment, which is harder than it looks when somebody is conducting a one-man community theater production of “See What You Lost.” Your ex came to your party with a date and an agenda. That is not an accident. That is a man carrying a fog machine into someone else’s living room.
You do not need to replay the night or send a five-paragraph closing argument. Let him enjoy whatever audience he thinks he has won. But your friends were right about one thing: he should not be invited again. Not because you are bitter, but because hosts are permitted to remove hazards from the premises.
If he asks why the invitation has dried up, tell him plainly: “You made my birthday about you, and I am not doing that again.” Then put your energy toward people who know the difference between showing up for you and staging a hostile takeover of your cake.
Have a social catastrophe, a romantic riddle or a question your friends are too polite to answer? Send it to asksassy@hesaiddallas.com. I’ll bring the judgment, the compassion and, when necessary, a velvet-gloved read. Discretion is assumed, darlings.
