AITA For Refusing To Host Family Dinners Because No One Ever Brings Anything?
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AITA For Refusing To Host Family Dinners Because No One Ever Brings Anything? I Decided To Teach Them A Lesson
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For years, I hosted monthly family dinners, cooking everything while my family treated it like a free restaurant. No one ever helped or brought anything, and when I finally put my foot down and demanded we switch to potluck-style, they acted like I had ruined our tradition. But when no one else wanted to take on the responsibility, the dinners stopped.
Two months later, my dad unexpectedly backed me up, telling everyone they were lazy and needed to figure it out themselves. That led to total chaos in the group chat—my brother suggested ordering takeout and making everyone Venmo him, my cousin complained that it wasn’t the same, and my mom’s restaurant idea got shut down because no one wanted to split the bill evenly. For the first time, they realized how much work I had been doing, and suddenly, their frustration wasn’t directed at me—it was at each other.
Then came the real wake-up call. My aunt finally volunteered to host, but it was a disaster. She underestimated how much work it was, the food was terrible, and everyone was stressed. My brother still showed up empty-handed. Throughout the night, they kept glancing at me, waiting for me to fix things, but I just sat back and watched them struggle. At the end of the meal, my exhausted mom admitted she didn’t know how I had done this every month, and my aunt muttered that potluck sounded like a good idea after all. That was the moment the dynamic shifted.
Things were going well—everyone was contributing, and I finally felt appreciated. Then, my brother pulled the ultimate betrayal. He hosted a full Thanksgiving-style Friendsgiving, planning everything down to the smallest detail, even assigning dishes and decorating. This was the same guy who couldn’t remember to bring a loaf of bread. When I confronted him, he shrugged and said, "It’s different when it’s for friends." That stung.
So I got petty. I RSVP’d and showed up empty-handed. When he asked where my dish was, I smiled and said, "Oh, I forgot. You got it, right?" The look on his face was priceless. Even my mom, while whispering that it was cold, couldn’t hide her smirk. He scrambled to make something last minute, and for once, he had to experience what it felt like when someone didn’t put in the effort.
After that, something changed. He actually started contributing to family dinners—not perfectly, but genuinely trying. And that was enough. No one ever outright apologized, but they didn’t have to. They finally understood. And that, without a doubt, was the sweetest victory of all.
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