Issue #12: I was the flaky friend

So sorry I can't make it :(

Hellooo friends!

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Today’s essay is the first in our series on friendship. We talk about friendship a lot — it’s our namesake, after all. We’re excited to delve into its beauty, messiness, and complexity with all of you over the next few Thursdays.

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There was a time (and not too long ago) when I often flaked. 

I picked excuses from a grab bag:

• I’m under the weather

• I have to work

• My sister/mom/dad/family friend needs a favor

• I got the day wrong

In reality, I was sinking into my couch with relief, riding the momentary high of canceling plans before picking up my phone to scroll Instagram and watch other people socialize. 

It’s a pretty comfy couch…

I wish I could say my compulsion to bail surprised me each time — but I often knew I was going to try to get out of a plan at the moment of making it. The friend and I would be picking a date, formalizing the activity, scouting out nearby food options, and all the while, I’d be fighting off a sense of panic and the knowledge that right before, I’d be spinning my wheels to come up with a believable excuse that I couldn’t come.

When I flaked, my friends usually reacted neutrally: “Oh, that’s too bad/feel better/good luck with work/no worries, we’ll reschedule!” 

We rarely rescheduled. Maybe they saw through my excuse, deciding to let it go. Or maybe they didn’t, but figuring out the logistics of another day and time was too complicated.

Each canceled plan eroded relationships. I lost opportunities to talk and laugh with people, catch up on their lives and share news from my own. Worse, I sent an implicit message: I’m not reliable. You might enjoy my company, but you can’t trust me to be there.

My social life was strong enough to withstand my flakiness, until several close friends moved away. Then it waned. And I realized I was lonely.

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Studies show that the typical American millennial flakes on nearly half of all plans.¹ Friends across the pond aren’t any better: British adults bail on roughly 50 out of 100 plans per year.² I was far from the only one sending eleventh-hour cancellation texts.³ 

At the same time, six in 10 people said they feel lonely on a regular basis. I felt lonely on a regular basis!

But the explanations I found for the flaking epidemic varied. 

Author, speaker, professor, and licensed clinical psychologist Andrea Bonior says most flakers aren’t good at saying no. “They’re afraid of conflict, so they just agree to everything… But you know [that] later on, they’re just going to be too busy or too stressed, and get out of it with some lame excuse.”

Meanwhile, Dr. Marisa G. Franco, author of Platonic: How the Science of Attachment Can Help You Make—and Keep—Friends, explains that the lack of formalized expectations around friendship are a major culprit.⁴ A “friend” has multiple — and often widely varied — definitions, from your platonic life partner to someone you hang out with twice a year. The ambiguity often leads to conflict.

“[My friend] may be like, ‘Friendship is trivial and not something to put a lot of effort in,’ and ‘Good vibes only,’” she explains. “And I’m like, ‘Friendships are deep and sustaining and profound relationships for me.’” 

Other important relationships are clearly defined. We know how we’re expected to show up for our romantic partner, our family members, our kids — but society lets us off the hook pretty easily when it comes to our friends. 

If I was a frequent bailer, Sam was the opposite, staying committed to plans beyond the boundaries of reason (crossing from Manhattan into Brooklyn and back again for two separate one-hour engagements, as an example).

It was hard to admit: I sometimes resented his unflagging reliability. My flakiness was more obvious by contrast. Yet if anyone would have practical advice, it would be Sam.

As we moved around each other, getting ready for bed, I asked: “How do you battle that anxiety that comes on before you go meet people?” 

“What anxiety?” he said. 

Oh. Oh. 

Knowing this anxiety wasn’t “normal” led me to investigate further.

The condition wasn’t hard to diagnose: social anxiety, or “significant anxiety, self-consciousness and embarrassment” stemming from the “fear of being scrutinized or judged negatively by others.” 

I thought back to the last time I’d bailed. I was supposed to get drinks with a newer friend. The dread had descended the morning of and strengthened as the day went on, my thoughts looping:

What will I talk about? What if we have nothing to talk about? Is the bar I picked okay? Will they be bored? Will they think I’m boring? If they think I’m boring, will they want to hang out again? What if the friendship never goes anywhere because I picked a mediocre place and it’s awkward and we struggle for conversation for two hours? 

And so, 90 minutes before we were supposed to meet up, I texted her:

I’m so sorry, I’ve been feeling off all day and have to rain-check. :(

That was the last time we tried to make plans. Ironically, my fear the friendship would suffer was what put the friendship on ice. 

One part of me was reassured to have an explanation for my self-sabotaging behavior — especially one that let me off the hook a bit. I’m not lazy or selfish; I have social anxiety. 

Another part was dismayed, unsure how to reconcile this realization with my larger conception of who I was. 

I have always felt more confident than the average person. I regularly give presentations to hundreds of people with relatively little stress, speak up at restaurants when my order is wrong, start conversations with strangers, and challenge others when I disagree with them. Being scared of spending time with friends didn’t fit into my self-image.

That image needed to expand — become more nuanced.

Of course, accepting my social anxiety was only the first step. Addressing it would be harder.

I didn’t need my therapist or Google to tell me what the solution was. I’d subconsciously known it for a while and, true to form, avoided letting it rise to the surface of my brain. The only way out of the anxiety would be through: forcing myself to show up. 

So, I gave myself a simple rule. No canceling. It didn't matter whether I was meeting one friend for coffee or fifteen for dinner, other people were bailing, or I had a legitimate excuse for not going. If I RSVPed “yes,” I was showing up. I wanted to be the friend who said they’d come and did.

This rule was tested quickly. Three days later, I had plans to get dinner with someone I didn’t know well but really liked. I wanted us to be friends. 

That morning, when I saw the event on my calendar, my heart rate spiked. The familiar thoughts started to descend — yet this time, knowing I couldn’t be seduced into canceling, I semi-successfully warded them off:

What will we talk about? You’ll have plenty to talk about. And if you don’t, so what? What’s the worst that can happen? 

Is the restaurant I picked okay? It has 4 stars on Yelp. It’s near the T. It’ll be great.

What if the friendship never goes anywhere? Maybe it won’t. But at least you’ll have tried.

6 p.m. drew closer and closer. My craving for the easy out grew stronger. The uneasiness enveloping me could be banished in one simple text.

I pulled out my phone:

Leaving now! See you soon :) 

I took a deep breath, put my phone in my bag, and walked out the door. 

A recent platonic love date. The food at Sumiao Hunan Kitchen in Cambridge is great — and we loved the non-alcoholic cocktails.

Social anxiety doesn’t “go away,” not fully. Eight months after giving myself the no-flaking rule, I still feel irrationally uneasy before most plans. But the uneasiness is getting easier to overrule, my worst-case scenarios losing their teeth.

And something unexpected — and amazing — has happened. Because I know I won’t bail, I’ve become more proactive. A new friend and I are talking about a movie we both want to see: want to see it together? A coworker loves the same sushi place I do: let’s grab dinner next week! An older friend I’ve fallen out of touch with is craving a trip to Cape Cod: we should plan a weekend.

On-ice friendships are thawing and coming back to life; new ones are poking up shoots. I am now the friend who says they’ll come, and does.

love, Aja

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Bonus Content:

With all the friendship discussion lately, this is a common exchange:

1. Read Jessica Grose’s take for the NYT on why it’s “so difficult for people — especially married people — to maintain friendships with members of the opposite sex.” (Gift link.)

2. Stop Firing Your Friends… Just make more of them. (Paywalled post.)

1. From a 2017 study commissioned by Evite and published by the NY Post

2. According to a 2015 study by Mentos

3. I am a little skeptical of these studies’ sponsors

4. This isn’t the first time I’ve name-dropped Franco. Her work on friendships inspired the name for our newsletter!