There are a few unspoken rules of being a decent human being. Don’t take the last slice of pizza without asking, don’t talk during a movie, and for the love of all that is holy, if you RSVP ‘yes’ to a party, you show up. Or, at the very least, you send a text letting the host know you can’t make it. It’s a basic-level adulting skill, yet apparently, it’s as elusive as a ghost on November 1st for some people.
Let me introduce you to a couple who are the undisputed champions of Halloween. For eight years running, they’ve thrown an epic party. We’re not talking about a sad bowl of candy corn and a speaker playing “Monster Mash” on a loop. We’re talking a full-blown production: days of decorating, curating the perfect spooky playlist, and a food spread that a professional caterer would envy.
This isn’t a potluck, either. This is a “bring-nothing-but-yourself-and-more-booze-if-you-want” kind of affair. The hosts foot the entire bill, and they plan meticulously based on who says they’re coming. This year was supposed to be their biggest party yet, and they went all out, dropping around $600 on food alone to feed the 25 people who enthusiastically clicked ‘yes’.
The party starts, the vibes are immaculate, the boozy punch is flowing. But as the night wears on, it becomes clear that their guest list is looking a little… sparse. Two hours into the festivities, the host starts doing the awkward but necessary task of texting the MIA guests. And that’s when the truth comes out. A whopping eleven people, nearly half the expected crowd, decided to bail.
Now, let’s be clear. The host doesn’t care if people can’t come. Life happens. You get a better offer, you suddenly feel antisocial, your dog needs emotional support. It’s all fine. The issue isn’t the ‘no,’ it’s the ‘no-show.’ It’s the absolute audacity of saying you’ll be there, letting someone spend their time, money, and energy preparing for you, and then just ghosting them. It’s the pinnacle of disrespect.
The host, bless her heart, started out being gracious and kind to the first few bailers. But by the time she got to the end of her list, her patience had clearly evaporated. Her response became a beautifully blunt, “11 people have bailed after the party started. We spent $600 on food for you.” You can almost feel the simmering rage through the screen. And honestly? Good for her.
The people who did show up had an amazing time, partying until the early morning hours. But the ghost of the guests who weren’t there lingered, mostly in the form of mountains of uneaten food. The host spent two days cooking this beautiful spread, only to be left with leftovers for eleven extra people.
Think about that. Leftovers for a couple are great for a day or two. But party-sized leftovers for a ghost army of eleven? They were eating party food for breakfast and dinner and still couldn’t make a dent. That’s not a fun little bonus; it’s a depressing,Tupperware-filled reminder of how inconsiderate some of their closest friends are.
This isn’t just about wasted food or money. It’s about a fundamental lack of respect for someone’s effort and friendship. These hosts poured their hearts, not to mention their wallets, into creating a special night for people they care about. The least those people could do is send a simple text. “Hey, so sorry, can’t make it tonight!” That’s it. That’s all it takes.
So let this be a public service announcement. The next time you RSVP ‘yes,’ remember that a real person on the other end is probably buying extra cheese and spending two days making a themed dip just for you. Don’t be the reason they’re eating chili out of a cauldron for the next week. Don’t be the Halloween ghoster. Just don’t be that person.
That is 11 people who will never be invited again.