“I, Freddy, Take You, Jason…”

My first wedding was planned for December 30, 1988, which fell on a Friday. The invitations my fiancé and I sent out were written in stylish calligraphy and said something like, “You are cordially invited to the wedding of [My Name] and [Fiancé], to be held at [time] on Friday, the thirtieth of December, 1988.”

A friend phoned me a week after the invitations were mailed.

Friend: “I was about to send in my RSVP when I noticed that there’s a mistake on your invitations, and I figured you should know.”

My heart sank.

Me: “Oh, no! I vetted them so carefully; I can’t believe I missed something!”

I checked one of the invitations frantically.

Me: “I can’t see it. What’s the mistake?”

Friend: “December thirteenth is a Tuesday, not a Friday.”

I paused for a moment.

Me: “Uh, yeah. That’s why we’re getting married on December thirtieth.”

Friend: “Huh?” *Checks the invitation herself* “Oh, duh! You’re right! Sorry! Take this as my positive RSVP, then.”

Me: *Laughing* “Thanks!”

I didn’t think anything of it until I got another phone call from another friend and had almost the exact same conversation. Then again. Then again.

All I could think was that people were so used to “Friday the thirteenth” being a thing that they read “Friday the thirt—” and their brains filled in the rest. The two words look a lot alike, especially when written in stylish calligraphy. I just hope that no one showed up at the church on Tuesday, December thirteenth!