I have a dark side. (It’s one of many.) It has to do with invitations.

The pathology goes something like this: Friends invite me, or acquaintances. Colleagues, maybe. People, but not strangers. To a brunch, a coffee, a get-together. I accept and pretend (even to myself) that I’d like to go. I do such a good job, I might even believe it. Later, as the date approaches and then the hour, I realize just how much I’d been pretending, just how much I don’t want to go. Not really, when you come right down to it. When you come right down to it, I don’t want to go. I think of excuses. It isn’t difficult; I’ve had a lot of practice. If necessary I’ll use them, but they’re mostly for my own benefit. They help me live with my decision. The appointed engagement comes and goes. I’m a no-show. Surprise, surprise.

I deal with the guilt. (The excuses help.) It’s easier than dealing with the people. Even friends. I get tired just thinking about it all: the smiles, the hugs, the small talk, the whispered concern. It’s so much heavier than it looks, you know. You wouldn’t think the atmosphere of a social gathering could weigh that much. I’m surprised the floors don’t crumple, especially in tall buildings.

It’s not my intent to discount my friends and the others. I know they mean well, and if I were there I’d mean well too. I’d be sincere right along with them. I don’t want to take away from anyone, to minimize their gestures. Their gestures are authentic, I’m sure, and mine would be too, if I went. But almost invariably I fold like a cheap plastic chair. Like I said, I have a dark side.

It could be fear. Maybe I’m afraid that the people there won’t recognize me, or maybe I’m afraid that they will. Maybe I’m afraid that they’ll ask me questions to which I have the answer, or maybe they won’t. Or they do, and I don’t. Probabilities of miscommunication escalate geometrically with the size of the party. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and the more, the merrier. I prefer the safety of the simple binary, where I play the dual roles of both zero and one. Two’s too many, three’s a mess.

Of course, my behavior isn’t without consequences. Over time, people catch on and I get fewer and fewer invitations. At least, from friends and acquaintances. Other people don’t know better. Not yet. They’ll keep inviting me for a time.

It helps, I guess, to have people you’re not too close to.