What Happens EVERY Time New Yorkers Try To Make Plans

Photographed by Bek Andersen.
Is your New Year's resolution to be less flaky? Ours is. We constantly find ourselves lagging after a long day's work, pretending we want to go to the gym (but, instead, running home to guilt-watch Vanderpump Rules while devouring a pizza), feeling sick/stuffy/headache-y — or all of the above. Basically, there are many times that we don't want to do anything, including following through with the plans we've already made. So, we cancel them. And, we readily admit that every time we do, we're the worst. So the cycle goes.
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Writer Kelly Stout gets that cycle. This week, she writes a humorous (and all too real) satire piece for The New Yorker called "Let's Get Drinks," which may or may not be inspired by a screenshot from our own inbox. The faux exchange between two friends who just can't wait to get together goes a little something like this:
B: I am total garbage at scheduling and forgot we were supposed to meet up tonight. Could you do Mon? SO SORRY. I feel terrible.
A: OMG, do not feel terrible. You are not as bad as I am. If you’re garbage, then I am, like, the Deepwater Horizon oil spill, because Monday doesn’t work. What about tomorrow?
B: I am worse than the global food crisis. Tomorrow’s no good. This is embarrassing, but I signed up for a yoga workshop. (I know, eye roll.) Anyway, hopefully I’ll get my shit together and stop being the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami by next week. Xo.
Of course, the analogies they use to describe how awful they are with every cancellation grow progressively more extreme as the piece goes on ("[I] am seriously Vermont’s heroin epidemic multiplied by Bill Cosby"). And, it's funny because it's true: Send all the XOs you want, but after canceling one, two, or even three or more times, there's something to be said for being, well, the worst — even though we are usually as quick to feel bad about canceling as we are to cancel in the first place.
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Yes, we're all busy bees; this is New York. But, are we really too self-consumed to realize that constantly canceling plans makes us pretty unreliable friends? We can all look at Stout's piece, laugh, and quickly send it to a friend and joke, "Is this us?" Or, we can slow down our busy New York lives, enjoy a quick glass of Cabernet with our besties, and resolve to be a little bit better when it comes to making — and keeping — plans. (The New Yorker)
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