It is with a heavy heart that I declare my intention to keep our dinner plans for tonight. I understand that this news may come as a shock, given our beautiful and long-standing tradition of taking turns canceling on each other. I can already picture the sadness on your face as you digest this news, knowing you can’t go home right after work, take off your pants, collapse on your bed, and scroll TikTok until you pass out.
I assume at this point you’ve ranted to your co-workers about the Herculean task ahead of you, known as “going to dinner with the nice person you met at your best friend’s party last year who works in your field.” I understand your frustrations that I am denying you the sweet rush of endorphins from a cancellation text. You still fondly remember that one time you were going to text me to reschedule, but before you could, I texted you first. You were let go from feeling guilty because the burden of the cancellation was on me, and that feeling is better than any drug on earth. I now play the role of the dealer cutting off your supply because I wish for this vicious cycle to end—once and for all.
