Répondez, S'il Vous Plaît

Getting the invitations out in a timely manner was probably one of the more stressful aspects of wedding planning, but every anxious moment was worth it, because nothing is better than receiving the RSVP card. Every time I check the mailbox, there is a stack of little surprises waiting for me. Most people don't leave a return address, so before I open the envelope, I try to do some detective work to see if I can guess who it's from. A Northern Virginia postmark is most likely my family, New Yorkers are all friends and coworkers, cards from California are from Este's family. That narrows it down a bit. Then you have to see what sort of shape the card is in. If it was sealed with a big wet tongue, the guest probably has small children. When you hold it up to the light, you can get a gauge on the handwriting.

After I can no longer handle the anticipation, I take a letter opener and ever so slightly slip it under the fold and tear open. Then I take the card out and am instantly happy to find out that I guessed right, and then instantly sad that the person has checked an unequivocal Will Not Attend. But more often than not, the card is littered with happy faces and checks marked in the affirmative. "We are coming and arriving in Punta Cana on the 7th. Watch out!"

But the reason I'm writing you tonight is not to tell you how much I love opening RSVP cards and updating the guest list and documenting who's arriving when. No, I am writing because Este somehow loves this as much as I do. (But if you ask me, it's because he's noticed how much fun I'm having and wants to get in on the action. Like when someone's having ice cream and they are enjoying it so much you have to get some for yourself too.) Needless to say, this poses a serious threat to my RSVP card-opening ritual.

Every night for the past week, we've raced to get home and be the first to check mail. Este's even closed the lobby door on me so he could get to the mailbox first. We have damaged several cards and envelopes in the fight to be the one to open and see the contents. I have tried to pretend like I don't care, so maybe he'll lose interest but he's not buying it. One night, after arriving at the mailbox at the same time, all out of breath and panting, we open the mailbox to find nothing- not even a Papa John's coupon. It was the most depressing night of my life, but it offered a chance for us to talk and come to a compromise.

We made a deal: if one of us gets home first, he/she has to wait for the other to arrive. I am allowed one minute of detective work, Este gets to open the envelope, I get to pull the card out, and then we both look down at the same time.

Now I am getting nervous that the RSVP deadline is only 5 days away and it will all be over soon. Time is running out, and this 'compromise' is just not cutting it. I need to get my fix! So if you are reading this and want to help, please be a dear and cross out the address on the RSVP card and write: Penguin USA, 375 Hudson Street, New York. It'll come straight to my office and no one has to know a thing. I, for one, think it's high time we cut out the middle man. Who's with me?