‘Stop Pretending Your Flakiness Is Self-Care’

‘In terms of instant relief, cancelling plans is like heroin.’ Comedian John Mulaney made this joke in 2015 and, since then, I’ve seen it everywhere. Re-blogged, re-posted, re-tweeted joyously. At the time, I found the thought revolutionary. I thought the rush I got when a friend texted me at 2pm to say ‘sorry hun – can we raincheck this evening?’ was something only I experienced.

Suddenly, it was trendy and everyone was being increasingly transparent about their plan-cancelling. And it was given a safe place to hide when people could start making out it wasn’t selfish, it was actually ‘self-care’. The pattern of a soon-to-be aborted plan became clear quickly.

As the days leading up to the plan arrives, both parties are conspicuously quiet: there’s no ‘we still on for Thursday?’ or ‘should we buy tickets?’ chatter. By lunchtime of Plan Day, you and your friend are in a game of plan-chicken: one of you has to send the virtually toneless ‘we still on for tonight?’ message, followed by an equally reluctant: ‘I am, if you are?’ A few moments pass, then someone cracks. ‘I’m knackered from this week, tbh.’

Cue joy, adulation, the kind of celebratory gestures of friendship usually associated with hen nights. Jokes about being old and boring and wanting to watch Netflix in your PJs. You go straight home, bouncing around with the kind of glee usually reserved for ringing in sick when you’re perfectly fine.

Did I go through a phase of revelling in serial plan-cancelling? Absolutely, yes. But am I officially over it now? Good god, yes. Not only am I sick of cancelling, I’m sick of being cancelled on.

I’m sick of the idea that a lively WhatsApp group is the same as a regular, committed friendship. I’m sick of friends who tell me, ‘The good thing about us is we don’t have to see each other for months, and then we pick up right where we left off.’ I’m sorry, but no. Picking up right where we left off isn’t good enough any more: I want friendships that grow, not stagnate on the same old material. I don’t want to stay right where we left off.

In my time as a serial canceller, I have inadvertently let friends down hugely by cancelling, and then found out they had badly needed a catch-up. Once, after a long summer of ‘next week?’ and ‘sorry, love...’, I found out that one of my dearest friends had been dealing with a relationship that was crashing down around her. She had been cheerily texting back ‘no problem!’ each time, when there had, in fact, been many.

The sad thing is, the joy of a cancelled plan doesn’t even feel like joy any more. Like most sick days, the cancelled plan evening tends to over-ripen and rot very quickly. You go home, slump in front of the Netflix you swore to your friend you ‘needed’ tonight and then... what? You sit on your couch, it from TV to phone, scrolling Instagram and resentfully liking photos of the event you didn’t go to. Are you truly ‘recharging’ anything? Is there a difference between relaxation and numbing inertia?

Watch: Why Your 30s Are The Best Years Of Your Life...

We talk a lot about Britain’s ‘loneliness problem’ with the presumption that it primarily affects those over 70. There’s a growing amount of data that suggests 18- to 34-year-olds are increasingly suffering, yet discussion of that loneliness is usually limited to a condescending lecture about how Millennials are too glued to their phones to form meaningful friendships. And while social media apps have certainly played their part in the great plan-breaking epidemic, that’s not the full story, either.

Ultimately, we were raised in a world that celebrates individualism over community. ‘Making it on your own’
is the most celebrated virtue, and ‘I love spending time by myself ’ the chic personality attribute we’re all supposed
to be striving for. Despite the fact that humans are social by nature, the romance of the ‘lone wolf ’ is woven into our society.

It’s a bizarre mixed message. As women, we are expected to have deeply committed friendships, but as members of the 21st century, we’re encouraged to find solace within ourselves, and to view other people as a necessary hassle. If you’re feeling sad, or tired, your instinct is to retreat from society.

You break the plan, thinking you’re ‘not good company’ or will become even more exhausted by socialising. It rarely occurs to you that you might feel better after seeing your friend, despite the fact that, nine times out of 10, when you follow through with the plan, you find yourself laughing and newly energised, saying how you’re ‘glad we did this’.

We preach the mantra of self-care, letting our friends down gently by telling them we just need to look after ourselves tonight. And sure, sometimes a bath and an early night is what we need. But the more cancelled plans you have, the more you’re going to have. You train your brain to think that being alone will make you feel better and, before long, this turns into a cycle of loneliness you find harder and harder to break. You put off plans for so long that they become a bigger mountain to climb every time you move them.

Plan-breakers: it’s time to break the cycle. If not for your own good, then for your friends who are fed up with being ditched.

Click through to see advice from psychologist Emma Kenny on how to beat loneliness...