And Why We Want to Know What It Looks Like

“Are you free tonight?” asked my friend Laura.

Unfortunately, I was not. “Shoot,” I said. “I’m sorry. Why?”

“Oh, too bad … I wanted to ask you to come to this really fun outdoor movie night in Brooklyn. Bob and the kids are out of town, so I thought we could have a girls’ night.”

“Really? When is it? Where is it? What’s the movie?” Then I thought: Why am I asking her all these questions? I knew there was no way I could go. In point of fact I had an irrevocable drink date with someone who was in town for only a few days; it was a date I had scheduled at least two weeks before. So why did I feel that I needed to get all the particulars regarding this invitation from Laura?

Laura explained that the movie was at the Pier One Harbor View Lawn in Brooklyn Bridge Park. I told her it sounded like a lot of fun but repeated that I was busy, and explained why. No problem, she said, she understood. But for some reason, I found myself asking her more questions, as if I were thinking of going: Were these movie nights generally crowded? And did people sit on the ground with blankets or were there chairs? The whole time, I kept wondering why it was that I needed to have so many details about something I wasn’t going to be doing. Was this just some kind of perverseness on my part—an unwillingness to accept the fact that I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too (as in, keep my Manhattan drink date and also go to the movies in Brooklyn)?

I think part of my reaction has to do with good manners. When someone calls up to ask you to get together, you don’t want to cut them off right away. If you just say “I’m busy,” before they can get the whole invitation out, it seems cold and dismissive. You do want to let the other person explain fully why they are calling.

However, at the risk of revealing an embarrassing defect in my character, I think in these situations, what’s happening is that I really want to know exactly what it is I am missing out on.

Before everyone starts shaking their heads at me, ask yourselves: Is this psychological phenomenon really so unusual? How many times do we ask the waiter for the dessert menu when we have already decided not to have dessert—absolutely, positively? Somehow you still just have to see the menu. To see what you might have had. If none of your favorites are there, isn’t it more satisfying when you hand the menu back?

Of course there is sometimes that part of us that wants all the details of the to-be-missed opportunity because there is a chance that if it were something tantalizing enough, we might in fact change our plans. Maybe I just want to let the other person think I am tempted to change my plans, because I want her to feel that seeing her would be so much more fun than anything I might be doing with anyone else.
And then again, this is New York, the city that never sleeps, the town with unlimited things to do and places to go. So it’s possible my super-social inner urbanite was trying to calculate, to figure out how to do both things.

I think I really just like to know what might have been. If nothing else, it’s helpful for planning what will be, in the future.
Jeanne Martinet, aka Miss Mingle, is the author of seven books; her latest book is a novel called Etiquette for the End of the World. She can be reached at JeanneMartinet.com

Jeanne Martinet, aka Miss Mingle, is the author of seven books on social interaction.

It can be a wonderful thing—that phone call that comes like a wish fulfilled when you don’t have plans, you don’t feel like working and you are deep in the doldrums. Suddenly, there is a friend’s voice saying, “I have tickets to a show tonight, are you by any chance free?” And voilà! Your evening is transformed into something enjoyable and unforeseen.

Last-minute invites—especially when they involve theatrical performances— are often things to be greatly appreciated. However, if you have a friend who only calls you at the last minute, you may not appreciate it so much. (“In about 45 minutes, I’m going to see this movie I’ve been wanting to see; want to go with me?” or “I’m sitting at this bar not far from you, why don’t you come out and join me?”) The people who are guilty of this kind of invite may call themselves free spirits, but is it really devilmay-care behavior or just devilish?

Sometimes, the last-minute invite is really what it sounds like, from someone to whom you are a last-minute consideration. Now, I want to be clear: I know many people who live and die by the relaxed, never-know-what-I-am-going-to-be-doing-tomorrow social credo. There are also those rather enviable people I meet who are members of a small but solid “crew” of friends, so that they don’t have to bother to make plans; their social life, while it may be a bit predictable, just happens automatically—albeit with the same six or eight people.

However, I think most New Yorkers over a certain age (30) and under a certain age (75) are busy enough that keeping a calendar is essential; indeed, most people I know are booked up at least several weeks in advance. They are juggling social lives with work commitments and family commitments, so if you really want to see them, you usually have to make plans with them way beforehand.

But there can be good reasons for a last-minute invitation. It can mean you simply did not anticipate you were going to have this particular hour or two of leisure time. It can mean you just got tickets to something unexpectedly. It can mean that someone else cancelled you at the last minute.

Obviously, there is a difference between a last-minute invitation to a movie and one to the opera. If a friend is going to take me to the Met because someone just dropped 10th row center orchestra tickets into his lap, he can call me as late as he wants and I’ll be delighted. But it doesn’t really matter what the last-minute invite is for, as long as it is not this friend’s standard MO and as long as it is proffered the right way.

Always preface the last-minute invite with: “I’m sorry, I know it’s last minute.” If you have an extra ticket to something, it is always gratis for the other person. If the person is not available, you must say something like, “Oh, I figured you might not be free at the last minute. Let’s make another plan right now for when you are available.” This says to the person, “I’m not just trying to fill my evening, I do really care about seeing you.” Once in a while, you’ll come across a person who feels entitled and expects everyone to be at their beck and call.

This person will call at the last minute to get together and, if you are not free, is extremely annoyed. This attitude obviously adds injury to insult. There are also rare instances when someone may invite you at the last minute because they feel obligated for some reason; they want to get credit for inviting you but they don’t really want you to come and are actually hoping you won’t be free. (Beware the party invitation that arrives the morning of the day of the party.) Of course, habitual last-minute social planning can be a corollary of intimacy.

With your best friends, there is never any problem with a spur-of-the-moment plan, because if you are NOT free at the last minute, it’s no big deal; you will see the person again soon enough. I know I tend to be a “Martinet” about matters of social protocol; I do insist that we need to behave with as much courtesy to each other as we can. But when all is said and done, I would not want a life without the possibility of a last-minute invite. It’s nice to know that your day can change in the blink of an iPhone.

Jeanne Martinet, aka Miss Mingle, is the author of seven books on social interaction. Her latest book is a novel, Etiquette for the End of the World. You can contact her at JeanneMartinet.com.