Becoming Linda
Week of July 20th to July 26th, 2021.
The nature of your relationship is unusual (elopement during a pandemic to someone not one of your friends or family had ever met directly—but one time your Mom watched him look at you and was like Woah, that guy is into you, go get him, etc). You did go get him, Virgo. You went and got him good. And now, one year of marriage in and both fully vaccinated, you’re finally meeting each other’s people. It’s only natural that a few little hiccups might occur along the way.
A friend of your husband’s has postponed his wedding three times due to Covid. The wedding has been delayed over such a long period of time that when your husband first received the invitation, he was a simple, single man who merely stared at you in public places in front of your mother. His single man-dom meant he was not afforded a coveted plus one.
Due to the delays, however, he now has the ultimate, irrefutable plus one—a legal wife. Marriage is the best way to get a plus one to weddings, Virgo. Girlfriends and boyfriends are granted plus one status on a case by case basis—but a wife? Who couldn’t scrounge up an extra chair for a wife?
You’re a cheap wedding guest, you don’t eat meat, you don’t drink, and you’re too insecure to dance—saving valuable real estate on the dance floor for other, more important guests.
This betrothed friend of your husband’s works closely with a band that you love. Your greatest hope is that this band will attend the wedding, and that each of them will be entirely open to building a deep, lasting friendship with you right off the bat.
You have wild fantasies that you’ll crack a perfect joke in the taco line, delighting them instantly. You’ll become fast friends, the flame of your friendship fueled by the three days of celebration. By weekend’s end, you’re practically inseparable. They’ll all move to New York so you can have as many nights of laughter and connection as possible in your long, beautiful lifetimes.
The RSVPing is done through a fancy wedding website. The website makes sure you understand that you can only RSVP with the exact name that was on your invitation. But there is no invitation for you Virgo, the surprise anonymous wife, so what are you to do? You brazenly attempt to RSVP with your first and last name. Jane Mitchell.
The website refuses your entry, and reminds you to RSVP with the exact name on your invitation. You’re starting to get nervous that there is no extra chair for you, Virgo. Why didn’t you buy refundable plane tickets?
Your husband reaches out to the groom. The groom is losing his patience. Who is this fresh ass not-technically-invited plus one begging and pleading for tech support? The groom says he thought that you changed your last name when you got married. The groom wonders if you can just RSVP with your husband’s last name, Aubele.
The groom says he’s overwhelmed with wedding details and can your husband please just take it easy on him. He seems to feel this isn’t the right arena to take a grand feminist stand. You don’t mind being Jane Aubele for one night. You return to the website’s RSVP zone.
Jane Aubele. The website denies your RSVP a second time. You’re hesitant to poke the bear, but you know there’s nothing more crucial than an RSVP. Your husband reaches out once more to his very tired, thrice wedding planned friend. The groom reveals the missing link. “Please just ask Linda to RSVP with Aubele.”
Linda Aubele. That is you. Your name isn’t Linda, and it definitely isn’t Linda Aubele. You take to the RSVP form and try this name (that is neither of your names) and it works instantly. You are granted access to the fancy wedding website that wants to know your dietary restrictions and offers you various discount codes for uber.
Your name isn’t Linda, but sometimes your husband calls you linda because he’s a native Spanish speaker and thinks you’re pretty. But there’s just no way during a bicoastal phone call catching up with his friend he referred to you as “pretty” in a different language so many times that his friend thought, “Okay, Linda is irrefutably her name.”
It’s just a mistake Virgo, and the mistake doesn’t really bother you that much.
Until you remember the band.
What if there are name cards at the dinner? What if your only opportunity to charm the band members into a lifetime of enriching friendship happens at the table, as you are forced to sit next to the giant neon sign that shrieks, “MY NAME IS LINDA!” You worry that when each of these band members undoubtedly try to keep in touch with you they’ll endlessly, fruitlessly search for a Linda.
A Linda who doesn’t exist.
Sure, you could tell the bandmates your name is Jane—not Linda. But you can’t seem too desperate to clarify your name right away, because you want to seem chill—which takes every single ounce of your will and attention to achieve, due to you not being chill whatsoever.
There’s also wedding etiquette to consider. Maybe correcting the bride and groom’s misunderstanding of your name is some sort of superstitious no-no. Is telling the bride your name is Jane (not Linda) against some sort of wedding code, like wearing white to a wedding?
A woman wore a lacy white dress to your friend Gillian’s wedding and she also parked on this beautiful grassy area for guests and got out of the car and was like, “Where is the parking?” and it was like…obviously not there?
You think about her often, and definitely don’t want to have any of the same behaviors she has, so if correcting the bride about your name is among those, then you’re just going to shut the hell up and be Linda for a day.
But what about the band!!!
Virgo I just want to take this opportunity to remind you that you don’t know if this band is even attending this wedding. It is an assumption you made, then got so excited about that your brain decided it was a fact.
If the band is there, they probably will be sitting at a different table than you. There is no way in the planning of this wedding they were like, “Ah yes, random ass stranger Linda, she should be close to my most interesting guests.”
But maybe they don’t even want the band to be there—because the band’s coolness would inadvertently take away from their special day. A girl you went to high school with ended up marrying a football player for the Seattle Seahawks and you asked if Ciara (married to a former Seahawk) would be invited to the wedding and she said, “No way, are you serious? How could I have my wedding be about me if Ciara was there?”
It’s impossible to relate to someone who would rather have a wedding than hang out with Ciara. You haven’t spoken since.
My advice for this wedding is to admit your name is Jane, Virgo. The skies are looking into it, but so far it doesn’t seem like simply not being named Linda is breaking some sort of cardinal rule of wedding attendance. Just reveal the truth. The misunderstanding may end up bringing you closer to the bride and groom over time. And who knows, maybe this misunderstanding will delight everyone—even the band.