How to go to the function when you don't want to go to the function

a working guide

I’ve been thinking about this meme.

Oh, how it resonates. I would never be so bald as to call myself an introvert. Parties and events fuel me; nothing lights up my week like a languid lunch with great company covered by someone else’s corporate card.

Sublime apple pie at one such lunch at Gramercy Tavern.

But I do have spells of introversion, and the desire to curl into a ball and hide under a blanket often hits an hour or so before I’m due at an evening engagement, particularly if it’s work related. Even more so if it’s cold or raining. Does that make me #basic? Then #basic I be. I’ve yet to encounter a woman who thrills at the idea of heading out onto slick streets in heels, but raise your hand if you exist.

One thing I dislike more than slick streets and high heels: flakiness. I hate committing to something and canceling at the last minute. It makes me feel like a jerk. Of course, if I’m struck with an illness or a (God forbid) genuine emergency, then I allow myself to cancel with no qualms. But generally, if you’re sick, you know more than one hour before the event, and you can give the organizers decent notice so they can redo the seating chart / inform the chef / what have you. Emergencies are emergencies, and there’s not much more to say about that.

So here you are. It’s 5:03 p.m. and you need to leave the house by six o’clock on the dot and the idea of putting together an outfit and putting on makeup and sliding your feet into those irksome shoes is just … not it. You don’t wanna. But you also don’t want to cancel. What do you do?

I feel like I’m reinforcing all sorts of L.A. New Age bougie stereotypes by saying this but — meditate. I heartily recommend this one from Open, which updates its library of guided meditations daily.

Maybe what you really need is a nap. In that case, try this.

Beyond that, you might ask yourself — why did you initially agree to attend this event? We agree to some things we might not otherwise because of friendship and filial piety. But if it’s a work related event, you might consider what I like to call the Lox trifecta:

Money, Power, Respect. How does this event stand to benefit you? The answer does not have to be concrete — my friend Amanda has written about the value of awe and I’ve attended a great variety of gatherings in the hope of sparking awe. When I find myself throwing an inner tantrum before a work-related event that I don’t need to go to — I am my own boss, after all, and I can always call out sick — I think about why R.S.V.P.-ed “yes” in the first place, and that helps me refocus.

After that, you could repurpose Tinx’s 10 minute rule, which she invokes when she doesn’t want to work out — try it for 10 minutes. In the case of an event, you might have to try it for longer, like 30. If, after the allotted interval that you and your own self agreed upon, you’re having a genuinely bad time / don’t feel well / can’t get yourself in the groove, politely excuse yourself and leave. You made the effort. It’s okay. The world will not stop spinning because you peaced out of the natural wine bar opening.

And you never know what might come out of trying. Several years ago, a woman that I had interviewed invited me to her home for breakfast. I was feeling open and curious when I accepted and closed off and anti-social when the day came. I considered canceling, feigning sickness, but that seemed beyond the pale, because what if she had gotten up at the crack of dawn and gotten her Ina Garten on and now had no one to appreciate her efforts?

So I went. All I remember were the raspberries — she took pains to ensure that only the plumpest, reddest specimens were in the bowl, the ones without those little black things … that Google just informed me are seeds. Oops. Oh well.

In any case, now she is one of my best friends and we have plans to attend a sound bath at Open’s Venice studio. That is what I call full circle, with points of intersection.