The big day is almost here! I’m so excited to see all of you. I know some of you have RSVP’d with a plus one, which is great. Can’t wait to meet them. But please, do me a favor and check to see that your guest is really who they claim to be and not a spy, saboteur, or rogue agent from a special mission force using an alias while attempting to clear their name.

To be specific: your spouse, your significant other, your college friend visiting from out of town who was kind of a mess back then, so you’re really hoping they’ve pulled it together—all okay. A freelance operative selling their services to the highest bidder who is the best there is at what they do? Not okay.

Parking is limited, so please carpool or use rideshare if you can. Yes, I do have a massive, multilevel garage bigger than most mansions, but it’s completely full of Bentleys, Bugattis, and Maseratis, and it’s strictly off-limits, but not for any secret reason or anything.

As you may know, my house overlooks the sea, but please don’t attempt to secretly enter the premises through a hidden underwater tunnel. And please don’t emerge from the ocean and then peel off your wetsuit, revealing a perfectly crisp tuxedo underneath, and then leave your dirty wetsuit on my beach. I have like ten muscle-stretched wetsuits in a closet somewhere. It’s not cute, you guys.

Check your coats at the door. It’s complimentary, of course. I hate seeing people at a party with coats on; it looks like you’re about to leave. Also, it’s too easy to disguise a weapon or EMP device that could be used to kill the electricity, allowing you to roam the house freely, searching for a powerful, highly unstable weapon, if I had one, which I don’t. And it just looks messy. Relax, stay awhile!

I will be disabling Wi-Fi and blocking cell service so that we can all be present and in the moment and not checking our phones every two seconds, but also so that people don’t coordinate their elaborate heists using earpieces. No talking to your guy in the truck, or maybe he’s in my house, and he’s hacked into my security cameras. (Which I will have to manually recalibrate after the party, and it’s a huge hassle, so please just don’t.) In fact, no earpieces at all. We will be checking. If you have a legitimate hearing aid, that’s a different story, and we’re happy to accommodate you.

Keep in mind that, for most of you, I’m not even your enemy or “bad guy.” I’m just a great host who loves throwing parties. It’s not my fault the quarry you’ve been tracking for months decided to show up here. It’s not my fault that the man who betrayed you chose my party to exchange the goods he took from you with a briefcase full of cash from a mysterious stranger. It’s not fair to me, or the other guests, for you to bring that shit here, and that’s the kind of thing that’s going to make me rethink throwing parties in the future.

No sexy dancing with your will-they-won’t-they secret mission partner. And this goes double for your adversary. Please, no sexual tension that will later erupt into a fight on the dance floor. Also? Even without a fight breaking out, it’s honestly too much, no one wants to see your groping, lustful PDAs!

Please don’t go upstairs and try to get into my locked, secret rooms, and then when my security team shows up, say you’re “just looking for the bathroom.” They’re on the first floor, right where you came in, and you know you saw them. And don’t use the stalls to drug and hide someone whose identity you will assume when you rejoin the party.

Again, I’m asking you nicely: no sneaking up the grand staircase overlooking the vast marble dance floor. Yes, I have uncut diamonds hidden up there. So what! A lot of us do. I also work in the weapons field, and is that a crime? (Yes, but you know what I mean.) I don’t think simply choosing a career like mine should mean that I can’t throw a party without worrying about you snooping.

If I sat you at a specific table, it’s for a reason. Because I think you might have something in common with the other people there. I know you have friends at the party, and it’s obv fine to talk to them, but please take the time to get to know your table neighbors. That’s how new friends are made.

Don’t try to steal a kitchen or wait staff uniform to sneak around in. I know we keep them on a large rolling rack, unattended and out in the open, but we only have enough for the people we hired.

Don’t ask for selfies. Don’t approach guests you don’t know and ask them to be on your podcast.

As you may have heard, I’ve arranged an elaborate performance to take place while the apps are being circulated. There’s dancing, singing, and even a water element. We got a guy who used to work with Cirque de Soleil to choreograph it. (The Reno one, not Vegas; that’s why they spell it differently. Yeah, I know.)

I’m guessing some of you plan to use it as a distraction, to make your big move when you assume all eyes will be on the show. I can’t tell you how disrespectful that is to the performers. Do you even know how much work goes into something like that?

I hesitate to even say this, but my love for live performance compels me: if you must have a distraction, then just stage your own after the show. An argument, a falling chandelier—okay, and yes, even a small fire (keep it safe, guys) is fine.

Please don’t camp out by the kitchen doors so you get the best apps right as they come out. There will be plenty for everybody, but you’ve got to let the wait staff circulate, that’s the key. They’re pros; they’ll get to you, let them work.

And one last thing. Please, don’t try to seduce me. For this very reason, I no longer carry an all-access key card on me. And I know the stereotype, okay? “Oh, he owns a billion-dollar mansion, of course he’s a creep, he’ll go for it.” Save it. I know the difference between a body genuinely rubbing up against mine and the version where you’re just doing it so your phone will scan and make an exact copy of my phone and all its contacts. I’m happily married, and I’d like to keep it that way!