How a Simple "No" Started a Family Feud
A listener wrote in this week, and Jana read the letter on the show.
He's 38. He's been with his girlfriend for four years. His cousin is getting married, and the invitation came with a rule: unmarried partners aren't invited unless the couple knows them very well.
Four years. That's four Christmases. I'd call that pretty well. But apparently not well enough.
So he checked "decline" on the RSVP. He didn't want to go to the wedding without her. Polite, simple, done.
Then his aunt called. I'm going to call her Aunt Karen, because we don't know her name and because it fits. She demanded an explanation. He gave her one. She argued. He explained some more. She brought up family loyalty. Then the cousin got involved.
And the best part. The cousin eventually offered to invite the girlfriend after all. But by then there was so much bad blood that nobody wanted to go to the wedding.
A perfectly polite RSVP had turned into a family feud.
The trap
The RSVP wasn't where it went sideways.
It was the explanation.
When you give someone your reasons, you think you're building a bridge. You're trying to be kind. You're trying to manage their feelings, help them understand, keep everybody happy. What you've actually done is hand them a list of things to argue with.
"I can't come because of X, Y, and Z" sounds to the other person like "If you can talk me out of X, Y, and Z, I'll come." So they start on X.
Jana's version of what he could have said: "I'm so sorry, I can't make it. I wish you both the best." Then send a nice gift.
That's it. No is a complete sentence. The RSVP can just be the RSVP.
The bride and groom's side
The other side of this deserves a minute, because it isn't crazy.
If you've ever paid for a wedding, you know how fast it gets away from you. You set a budget of ten thousand dollars and somehow you're at sixty. And "it's just one more person" is never one more person. If thirty guests each bring one, you just doubled the guest list. More food, more chairs, more drinks.
Then there are the photos. Jana and I have nieces and nephews, and when they bring someone new to Christmas, you get the question nobody wants to ask out loud. Do we put them in the family picture? You end up taking two. One with them, one without, just in case.
I told Jana that's the whole reason AI was invented. Now you can just remove somebody. Back in the day, you were putting a smiley-face sticker over a face.
So the rule wasn't evil. It was just vague. "Unless we know them very well" is the kind of rule that guarantees hurt feelings, because nobody agrees on what "very well" means. A clear rule, you can live with. A fuzzy one, everybody argues about.
Our version
Jana and I had been married several years when my mom called, really excited.
My parents, my sister, and her husband had been up in the Blue Ridge Mountains looking for a weekend getaway the whole family could share. They'd found the perfect house. Top of the mountain. The highest one on the ridge. Mom wanted to know if we'd like to go in on it with them.
I asked one question. "Is it wheelchair accessible?"
Silence.
Then she said there was a half bath on the first floor, and a room with glass double doors we could put a bed in. And about five steps to get into the house.
I said, "Thanks for asking. We're not interested."
That was the whole answer. I didn't explain. I didn't make a speech about access. It was my family, so it was my call to make, and I made it short.
But Jana was deeply hurt. And I understood why, even though I knew nobody meant a thing by it.
Something happens around Jana, and it happens with people who love her. After they've known her for about an hour, sometimes less, they forget the wheelchair. That's mostly a good thing. It's also where ideas like "let's all go to the beach" come from. Sand in a wheelchair is about as fun as a trampoline. Less, probably.
We've been to the mountain house maybe twice in six or seven years.
And the ending is my favorite part. My parents recently moved from Tallahassee to Atlanta and bought a townhouse. They went looking, on purpose, for one with an elevator. For themselves, and for Jana, so we'd visit more.
Nobody had to win an argument for that to happen. Nobody needed a long explanation. Time did some of the work. Love did the rest.
Your family, your call
There's an unwritten rule in a lot of good marriages, and it's one Jana and I try to live by. You handle your family. I handle mine.
It's not that you leave your partner alone with it. You talk about it at home, you back each other up, you figure out together what you want to say. But when it's time to actually say it, the person whose family it is should be the one saying it. They know the history. They know how their people hear things. And they're the one their family can forgive most easily.
When a spouse steps across that line and takes on the other one's family, it usually makes things worse. More hurt feelings out there, and then friction at home too, with the person you have to live with for the rest of your life.
Jana asks it well: "Would you rather I step in, or is it easier for you to handle, since you know the dynamic?" That's a question, not a takeover. I'd recommend stealing it.
"We're so sorry we can't make it. We hope it's wonderful."
"It just doesn't work for us this time."
"Thanks for asking. We're not interested."
Then stop talking.
Ten years from now
So what does our listener do now? He's probably past the wedding by the time he reads this. What's left is the family.
What I told him on the show: ten years from now, you're either laughing about this or you're still angry about it. And no relationship survives that kind of anger for long.
The way you get to laughing is by assuming everybody was doing the best they could. Aunt Karen probably called because she loves him and wanted him there. The cousin probably had a budget and a guest list that was getting away from him. He wanted to protect his girlfriend. None of that is villainy. It's just a family.
Jana and I got a little carried away at the end of the episode with ideas for even worse wedding rules. Only married people allowed. If you've ever been divorced, please leave, we don't want it rubbing off. Only people named Karen are invited, and she's officiating, and she makes you say your vows twice and mean it.
That's the answer we've got. Humor. Laugh hard, and laugh together.
Before and after the hard call
Before you pick up the phone with family, run our morning questions, the 4-Minute Luck Activation Formula, on that one conversation. What do I want to experience in this conversation? How do I want to grow? How do I want to contribute? How lucky am I? You'll go in clearer, and you'll explain a lot less.
Afterward, the evening questions, the 4-Minute Reflection Formula. What did I do well? What MIGHT I have done differently? How will I be more effective next time? How lucky am I? Run them together and that's the Living Lucky® Loop. There's no wrong way to do it, on a whole holiday season or on one phone call with Aunt Karen.
The Living Lucky® Practice
Exercise: Think of a "no" you need to say soon. Write it in one sentence. Then cross out every word that's an explanation.
Reflection question: Who am I really explaining myself for: them, or me?
Journal prompt: Which family situation am I trying to manage that actually belongs to my partner, or the other way around?
Action: The next time someone asks for a reason, try: "It just doesn't work for us this time. I hope it's wonderful." Then stop talking.
Questions people ask about this
How do I decline a wedding invitation without causing drama?
Keep it short and warm. Check "decline," write something like "We're so sorry we can't make it. Wishing you both the best," and send a gift if you'd like to. The more reasons you give, the more there is to argue with.
Why does over-explaining make family arguments worse?
Because every reason you give becomes something the other person can push back on. A simple, kind "no" is hard to argue with. A list of reasons turns your decision into a negotiation.
Is it okay to skip a family wedding if my partner isn't invited?
That's your call, and it's a reasonable one to make. If you decide not to go, say so kindly and simply, and keep the relationship with the couple bigger than the one event.
Should I deal with my spouse's family drama?
Usually not directly. Talk it through together and support each other at home, but let each person handle their own family. They know the history, and their family can forgive them more easily than an in-law.
Why do weddings have plus-one rules?
Mostly budget and space. One extra guest per person can double a guest list fast. The trouble comes when the rule is vague, like "unless we know them well," because everyone reads it differently.
How do you get past a family feud?
Assume everyone was doing the best they could, get curious about where each person was coming from, and look for the humor in it. If you won't be laughing about it in ten years, you'll probably still be angry, and that costs more than the wedding ever did.
If you'd like help navigating family dynamics as a couple, that's what our coaching is for, at livinglucky.com. The Decision Matrix, The Quiet Space, and our journals are on Amazon under Jana and Jason Shelfer, and at livinglucky.com. And subscribe to our YouTube channel for more letters like this one. Send us yours, too. We read them.
Hear the whole conversation on the Living Lucky® Podcast with Jana and Jason Shelfer, Season 11, Episode 58: "How a Simple 'No' Started a Family Feud."
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