I was visiting with an Ex (from long, long ago), meeting his son and Baby Mama. Fortunately, the baby was adorable and drooley, the Baby Mama was a friendly, charming hippie and I was way, way cuter than her. Couldn't be more delighted about that.
We spoke about our plans for the summer and then Baby Mama said, "Oh, Ex told you about the wedding, right? Can you come?"
"Uh, no, I hadn't heard," I stammered.
"Oh, come! It's going to be fun, it's going to be at PDX Farm!"
Hm. I think maybe there's a reason that Ex didn't invite me. He seemed to have gotten over drunk dials at this point, drunk dials in which he suggested I leave Poster Boy, he leave Baby Mama and he and I go make our own baby batter. But perhaps there was some other reason he hadn't mentioned it? I was hesitant.
And while I did eventually receive an invitation, albeit an e-mailed invitation that began "So, the wedding. You should come," and ended with "It's a western theme, so feel free to wear western wear, and if you bring your tent you can camp there," I decided against attending.