I once invited a new friend for brunch, and she never showed up. I didn’t have her number, so I waited two hours, then told my kids we could eat all the delicious food I had made. I saw the friend a week later and asked where she’d been. She seemed surprised, said her kid had hockey that day. She had assumed she wasn’t the only person invited to brunch and thought it wouldn’t be a big deal not to show up. Needless to say, we never made plans again.
Turns out, I’m not the only one who’s been flaked on. I wrote about this experience recently for my newsletter and was blown away by the responses. Dozens of readers shared stories, many far more dramatic than mine, of people cancelling on them, often at the last minute, with strangely bad excuses or, worse, no excuse at all.
One woman described a baby shower to which 12 friends were invited. Only six said they’d come, and then, on the day of, all six cancelled. The woman said it was humiliating. Someone said she organized a potluck, and the guest who insisted on bringing the main dish called five minutes before the start to say her family was too tired to come.
A few people cancelled events because husbands were napping or watching hockey. One parent said only half of her kid’s confirmed birthday party guests showed up. Someone recounted an infamous Thanksgiving dinner, where most guests bailed, leaving four adults to tackle a huge turkey and a large ham.
I could go on, but the point is, we are living in a time when people do not take social invitations seriously. Many are willing to bail on their own friends for reasons that range from justifiable to absurd. This is incredibly sad. I have a few thoughts on why this is happening. For many of us, social ties changed or weakened during the pandemic, and we fell out of the habit of gathering.
Then there are changes in how we communicate: Smartphones are not the whole problem, but they play a role. They have depersonalized how we connect. Texting makes it easy to send a last-minute cancellation. You don’t have to call a host and hear disappointment in their voice; you can even blame them for not seeing the message in time.
Surely, though, most people can grasp how hurtful it is to send a message (or no message at all!) with a subtext that says, “You don’t matter enough for me to show up.” Rejection is always painful, but it is especially painful when it comes in response to a host’s proffered gift of time and effort, which, in today’s world, is the rarest and most generous gift of all.
When did receiving an invitation become a burden, rather than an honour? There was a time, not long ago, when being able to gather with friends was impossible. Have we already forgotten how lonely that felt? To be invited somewhere is to be wanted. Imagine if the invitations stopped coming altogether – and they will stop, if you say no to enough of them.
I’m all for emptying one’s calendar and engaging in self-care. Sometimes we truly do need a night on the couch in our PJs. But done too often, it’s a recipe for isolation. You almost always feel better after going out, even if it’s just for an hour. At the very least, you’ll make a friend happy, and that should count for something. What I take issue with is not responding to invitations, responding vaguely, saying yes to things you know you won’t do, cancelling at the last minute and failing to make an effort to show up for people who care about you.
As someone who hosts frequently, I’ve developed a few guidelines over the years. I don’t make Facebook events, as these create a public forum for cancellations, which are contagious. They also have my most despised feature, the “maybe” RSVP status. I’ve realized that, if someone turns down an invitation several times in a row without suggesting alternative plans, they probably don’t want to invest in our friendship. Reciprocity is critical. It’s not tit-for-tat. A friend who hates cooking or lives in a tiny apartment can suggest coffee, board games or a walk instead.
There are many ways to show up in this world, but one basic rule I’ve taken to heart is, “Don’t be a flake.” Be reliable in a fickle world, and you will have friends for life.
Katherine Johnson Martinko is a Canadian writer and the author of the 2023 book Childhood Unplugged: Practical Advice to Get Kids Off Screens and Find Balance. She writes about digital minimalism, parenting and technology in her e-mail newsletter, The Analog Family.
