It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it began, but lately, it feels like a running joke among my busy circle: the pure joy of a canceled plan. That last-minute reprieve? It’s celebrated as a true gift! One moment you’re bracing for a movie and dinner, the next you have an entire evening unexpectedly free. Pajamas and takeout? The night is suddenly yours to command! Those plans you once made with enthusiasm, once called off, transform into an annoying chore, akin to wrestling with your internet provider.

Comedian John Mulaney perfectly captured this sentiment, stating simply: “Percentagewise, it is 100 percent easier not to do things than to do them. And so much fun not to do them! Especially when you were supposed to do them.”

I confess, I used to be a passive canceller. I’d let the hours tick by without confirming evening arrangements, allowing the certainty of our plans to fade. Eventually, either my friend or I would send a text along the lines of, “Are we still on for tonight? No pressure if you’re not feeling it.” This courteous gesture effectively passed the baton of guilt-free cancellation. The outcome was always the same: an unexpectedly open evening, an obligation effortlessly erased.

Modern technology has made bailing on plans incredibly easy. And that, I believe, is precisely what’s prompted my change of heart. The sheer effortlessness of canceling via text transforms every arrangement into a phantom commitment. It implicitly permits us, whether intentionally or not, to approach our relationships with a troubling lack of dedication. More importantly, this convenient, asynchronous communication often leads us to be inconsiderate of others’ valuable time. My friend Indrani perfectly articulated this frustration, describing how she recoils when someone cancels by proclaiming, “I’m freeing up your evening!” as if presuming she had an abundance of other options when, in reality, she was genuinely looking forward to their company.

Perhaps it’s the anticipation of winter and more cozy nights indoors, or maybe the insights gained from my recent research into loneliness, but lately, I’ve found myself truly cherishing and eagerly anticipating my scheduled plans. I enjoy glancing at my calendar and seeing a theater night with an old friend, or a drink date I set months ago for ‘when life calms down a bit’ – even though, let’s be honest, life hasn’t gotten any calmer. I’ve also become a bit more selective about my commitments, trying to gauge my future energy levels before agreeing to something like an 8:30 p.m. breathwork workshop on a random Wednesday in November, ensuring it’s genuinely something I desire to do.

A few years back, Brad Stulberg penned a wonderful essay for Times Opinion emphasizing the crucial importance of showing up, even when you’d rather not. He argues that the ultimate reward for honoring our commitments is the formation of community – a vital ingredient, as we are constantly reminded, for both happiness and a long life. This often means sacrificing a bit of immediate control over our time for the profound, long-term benefit of a more meaningful existence.

While we might inwardly resist relationships that feel like obligations, Stulberg reframes them as a “mutual contract of responsibility,” serving our broader life aspirations. He notes, “If we commit to certain people and activities, if we feel an obligation to show up for them, then it’s likely that we will, indeed, show up. And showing up repeatedly is what creates community.”

When discussing this with my own friends, a common theme emerged: a deep-seated desire to be people who consistently show up, recognizing this as fundamental to their self-identity. We all crave community and strive to nurture our relationships, but we also aim to embody a character that earns trust and affection. Simply making plans and then following through, even when exhausted or irritable, is a straightforward act of integrity. In a world often marked by instability and unpredictability, being a reliable presence – keeping our promises and honoring our commitments – offers a small but powerful form of resistance.

Each Saturday, I receive a wealth of fascinating emails from readers sharing their thoughts on the week’s topic, and I often wish we could all engage in a wider conversation. This week, we absolutely can! If you have insights or feelings about canceling plans, let’s discuss them in the comments below.

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