Jeez - seven pages on this? But someone back on page 2 got it right, I think, and using phrasing that the average eight-year-old can understand pretty well.
If you won’t wear appropriate clothes to an event, then it doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t make you a lesser being. You know what it makes you?
A party-pooper.
A killjoy.
A person who’s so wrapped up in your own oh-so-serious views on “conformity” and “independence” and “culture” that you’re not fun to be around.
Everyone who was invited to my wedding was a friend of either me or my wife. Friends, I shouldn’t but apparently do have to explain, like one another and want one another to have fun and be happy. Now, I don’t understand some of the things that my friends like and have fun doing. My friend Liz performs in opera, which I don’t particularly enjoy. But when she’s in one, and she invites me to go, I go. I could refuse to attend, I guess. Or I could go and listen to the Mets on the radio. But even though I don’t really enjoy the opera of itself, Liz does, and her enjoyment is heightened by having her friends come see her and clap for her and not listen to the baseball game. And I want my friends to be happy, because they’re, you know, my friends.
So you weigh the negatives of going: I’m going to have to hear people sing in German for three hours, and I’m going to need to wear nice-ish clothes and I’ll be missing Mets-Braves tonight - against the positives: Liz will appreciate my presence and have a good time, and Nick and Shannon and I will get a few good giggles out of the performances given by the nonprofessional tenors, and afterward we’ll all go to an Applebees and talk about the show and compliment Liz, and it’ll be a nice experience shared by a bunch of friends.
And since the negatives are so small and petty, and the positives are so big and fun, why not go to the opera?
That’s what friendships - and I include family relationships that are friendly, as well - actually are about: enjoying one another’s company, and getting enjoyment out of doing things that make one another happy. Another friend, Ed, has a yearly costume party for Halloween. It’s a costume party. I don’t like wearing Halloween costumes, but I like Ed, and he likes throwing costume parties. I could go in jeans and a T-shirt, and Ed would still let me in the door, but I’d be making the event about my own noncomformity instead of about friends having fun with other friends, and that would make me a killjoy. And really, what the hell difference does it make if I wear a costume? I don’t know why he likes having costume parties - I wouldn’t throw one - but he does, and he’s my friend, so - awesome.
Or someone gets married. And they want a wedding that isn’t like the wedding you wanted, but you know that if you put on a suit and show up at the Church it will bring them genuine happiness.
So you have a choice. You can decide to put on the suit, and maybe your arm movement is restricted a bit, but your friend is just the tiniest bit happier and gets the party that he or she wanted. Or you can decide that your friend doesn’t deserve to have the party he or she wants because it’s not the party you would have wanted.
And if you pick the latter option, then you’re not a monster. You’re just a party-pooper; a killjoy. And you will, in the end, have exactly the kind of friends that you are. If you’re happy with that, knock yourself out, I guess.