About Rebecca Eckler
Since becoming pregnant with her daughter Rowan, Canadian journalist and author Rebecca Eckler has penned three hilarious books, including the best-selling Knocked Up. Catch Rebecca’s weekly unique perspective on motherhood and single parenthood.
I was recently invited to a bar mitzvah as a Plus One. I was THE DATE. Being invited on a date to a restaurant or bar is totally different from being invited to a bar mitzvah. A bar mitzvah is a gathering mostly of close friends and relatives, none of which I knew, so I was a little nervous.
Let’s just say I HAD to drink, and I’m NOT a drinker. I realized I was DEFINITELY going to drink right before arriving to the bar mitzvah when my date said to me, “You get to meet my ex-wife.” Now, I knew the ex-wife was going to be there, but I had totally forgotten about it until my date reminded me when we were about five minutes away.
In any case, I was dismayed that the bar wasn’t open when we arrived. Apparently, Rabbis don’t like you to be drunk for the service part, which makes sense. But, my goodness, don’t RABBIS know that there are people like me – Plus Ones – who need alcohol to get through things like this? (Namely, meeting ex-wives and their friends?)
I had to meet the ex-wife totally stone cold sober, which went fine. She was friendly. I was friendly. We made VERY small talk. And, then, for the rest of the night, the ex-wife, her boyfriend, and her friends stared at me like I was a display in a museum. (See my need to be socially lubricated?)
The night was fun. The parents did a wonderful job. I had a good time. Everyone had a good time. Well, most people had a good time. I actually (maybe because of the three glasses of wine drank in rapid succession) had a GREAT time. Especially thanks to the gal sitting next to me, who immediately asked for my BlackBerry pin and proceeded to send me a message, though I was sitting right next to her. “Just read what I sent you,” she whispered.
“My guy's ex-wife is sitting at the next table to your right. You can’t move. You’re blocking us from seeing each other,” I read.
I laughed out loud. Her guy’s ex was at the same table as my date’s ex, so there was a lot of staring in the direction of our table. (DRINK, PLEASE!)
“We’re like the table of shame,” I moaned. “We should get T-shirts made.”
The more I thought about it, the more I thought how hard it is for the parents of people hosting weddings or bar mitzvahs or other big family events. Especially once you get to my age, when there are a lot of exes invited with dates. While you should simply be worrying about whether your own family has fun, people like me and the gal I was sitting next to are invited as dates, and, my God, you then have to think of the seating arrangements.
In any case, I'm glad I’m so far off from having to think of seating arrangements for my daughter. By then I’m sure there will be a lot of uncomfortable Plus Ones I’ll have to find seats for. I’ll always have an open bar, that’s for sure.
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