My parents’ friend’s son is getting married this month. I knew about his engagement before my parents because I use Facebook. I assumed I’d be invited because we’re childhood besties. I mean, we haven’t played tag since fifth grade, but what’s a decade and a half?

I liked the ring photo. Good work, dude. (He proposed while they were “vacationing” in Antigua. I call that a pre-honeymoon.)

Last month I discovered I was invited – but not as myself. I was invited as my parents’ plus one.

Here I was, worried I wouldn’t get a plus one, never worried I would actually be someone else’s plus one, let alone my parents’.