How to RSVP, you loutish clod.

It should not surprise you that I neither host nor attend many social gatherings due to my aversion to most other human beings. For the same reason, it may surprise you that I do have a strong affinity for politeness and “etiquette”. (I know, I’m a delightful packet of enigmas.) My rules are very simple, so I expect everyone to comply.

First, I don’t play stupid games with the timing of a reply. As if an immediate response versus one made exactly 2.333 days from invitation receipt (depending on the lunar phase, of course) means two shits to anyone but uptight newspaper columnists with the time and life comforts to judge others on antiquated standards designed to do nothing more than create arbitrary social constructs by which the privileged can look down on the lowborn. Fucking jerks. Just reply accurately as soon as you are able, preferably more than 24 hours before the event. If you’re sent some kind of online invite, use the damn thing, huh? It’s really not that difficult to open an email and push the YES or NO button.

When responding that you cannot attend an event to which you were invited, just say, “Sorry, I can’t make it! Have fun!” That’s it. This is especially important if you are lying. Concocting elaborate excuses is like setting a bear trap while standing inside it. Even if you do have a legitimate reason for not attending, you don’t need to give it. Please do not:

1. Give me an overly detailed excuse that makes me feel sorry for you, aka Dropping a Turd in the Punch Bowl.
   Little Timmy has diarrhea and Suzie has a soccer game in BFI. Your party sounds so much better than mopping up projectile fluids while chauffeuring a brood of eight-year-olds! Let’s catch up after I take my father in for his chemo next week.
2. Give me an overly detailed excuse that makes me feel sorry for myself, aka Trampling the Hopes of the Downtrodden.
   I’d love to be there, but I’ll be [across the / out of the] country attending [an event much more exciting and expensive than your little piece of shit party]. Let’s get together after I get back from my latest adventure. I can’t wait to tell you all about how awesome my life is.
3. Give me an excuse that is meant to make me jealous but, to me, sounds like an awful alternative to my lame party, aka Passing the Ipecac.
   Sorry that I can’t make it, Ted! I’ll be at the Blake Shelton concert!!!

There’s something that makes responses like these more grievous: You’re a casual acquaintance. If you suspect in the slightest you were invited by obligation or courtesy, DO NOT FUCKING REPLY WITH SHIT LIKE THIS! That is, unless you want to be omitted from the next event’s guest list, in which case you’ve indeed done a good job.

Obviously, there are different kinds of parties and events that require distinct codes of conduct. There are, though, elemental and universal guidelines that can shepherd you through most affairs without stepping on yourself. When the Big Day has arrived, follow this not-comprehensive list of straightforward rules when attending:

1. Do not dress inappropriately. If it’s a formal event, tuck in your shirt and maybe wear a tie. If it’s an informal event, don’t tuck in your shirt or wear a tie. Ladies, it’s this simple: Regardless of formality, 50% of the guests want to see your stuff, 50% of the guests don’t want to see your stuff. You choose which half to please, knowing you will probably be judged by both no matter what. I’m sorry; I wrote this rule, but I did not create the despicable social norm that demanded its writing.
2. Do not come empty handed. Almost everyone likes booze and junk food. If the host does not like booze or junk food, you should have done whatever necessary to get out of attending. If this was not an option, see 4.d.ii.
3. Do not take your gift with you if it is not consumed when you leave. “Do you want me to leave that beer here or…” Also, don’t bring something on a platter or in a container you’re not prepared to never see again.
4. Do not be:
   1. The pain in the ass chewing everyone’s ear to a nub talking about nothing or (worse) yourself. Allowing words in edgewise is what makes a conversation, and it gives your damn fool jaw a rest before your next volley of tripe. If you suddenly get the sense that the person you are talking to is trying to get the hell away from you, LET THEM GO! Related to this, don’t yammer like an expert in something you’re not, especially when there are real experts around.
   2. The sadist who sees (a) happening and doesn’t rescue the hostage.
   3. The disinterested asshat with your face buried in your smartphone, ignoring the talking meatbags surrounding you.
   4. The floundering goober standing alone talking to no one and doing nothing. Standing with your hands in your pockets, standing stoop-shouldered with your arms hanging limply at your sides, or any variation of awkwardly posed standing/sitting is BAD. If you look uncomfortable or bored or lonely, chances are good that someone with better social skills will try to change that for you. Though they each have their risks, your better options are to:
      1. Stand near a cluster of people hanging with bated breath around the party’s star performer. Laugh/sigh/mmmhmm at a reasonable volume and make eye contact with other people who are at a minimum distance of 3.5 feet. (You want to appear engaged, but you don’t want to give signals that you’re trying to pull off into a less popular splinter group.) This is the best option as you are both visible to anyone “checking up” on you and “actively involved”, i.e. less likely to be dragged into a private conversation or roped into some terrible party chore.
      2. Find somewhere secluded to hang out, killing time by yourself. This is my preferred option, but it’s risky because someone will probably start looking for you before too long (read: “long enough”). If the event is at a semi-public place, there are all sorts of places to vanish. Hotels and the like are my favorite; there are lobbies, big restrooms with many stalls, conference rooms, etc. If you’re hosting it’s easier, too, because you know all the good hiding places. Seeing as there’s always the possibility of being found, DO NOT hang out somewhere creepy. Under a bed, in a car in a closed garage, the host’s toddler’s playroom closet, and a boiler room are all poor choices.
      3. Fly solo, but look busy. This is the riskiest option, but sometimes you have no choice. Don’t stand still; try to “float” throughout the space. Walk briskly enough that you look like you’re headed somewhere, but no so fast that everyone’s suddenly wondering where you’re going in such a hurry. Always have an accessory in hand, like a drink, food, party favor, etc. Don’t hold anything like a game piece, kitchen implement, camera, etc. If someone needs it or thinks you want to use it, you will be found and made to participate in something unpleasant.
      4. Find someone who is actually worth talking to. It’s easier to hop over the steaming cow pies when you have friends at the event, but it’s very hard to do when you don’t really know anyone. At that point, it’s a total crapshoot. You might make a new best friend or you might get sucked into an inescapable vortex of HR anecdotes and terminal illness narratives. There is no foolproof way to extricate yourself from the clutches of a joy leech, either. It’s a lot like asking, “How do I defend myself against a bear attack?” Don’t go into the goddamn forest, for starters! But sometimes the bear wanders into your backyard… You’ll see your opportunity for liberation when it presents itself. Do not hesitate.
5. Do not identify the one foodstuff I’ve homed in on and eat all of it before I’ve had a chance to overindulge.
6. Do not guzzle if offered the host’s high-end booze. If not offered, don’t go anywhere near it. Stop thinking about it.
7. Do not eat or drink like a fucking child. Close your mouth, use a napkin, don’t eat with your hands when avoidable, wipe up your crumbs—and not onto the floor.
8. Do not use the host’s bathroom to practice your hands-free stand-up urination techniques. Or, if you must, clean up after yourself. If you find yourself in the bathroom after a wannabe barista making a whiz latte, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to clean it up, lest the next person blame you for it.
9. Do not go No. 2 unless you absolutely cannot make it to just about any other restroom anywhere else. If you are trapped and risking internal rupture:
   1. Use the most secluded restroom possible, preferably on a different floor. You don’t want a flimsy interior door as the only barrier between a sudden gaseous discharge and a gaggle of friends/strangers/coworkers. You also don’t want anyone hearing more than one flush. Finally, no matter how attentive you are with fans or sprays or candles, there will be some sort of smell that wafts out with you that will be like a neon I POOPED sign above your head.
   2. Verify an adequate supply of toilet paper before sitting down. What the hell are you going to do if your discovery is too late, there isn’t enough on the roll, and the overstock isn’t in the bathroom? Use a hand towel? Go waddling out with your skivvies around your ankles in search of the supply closet? On the flipside, how are you going to ask for more toilet paper?! You are screwed either way. Find another restroom or get the hell out of there. (This is giving me a panic attack just thinking about it…)
   3. Locate the plunger. If you haven’t plugged a toilet in years, you are due, and it will be this time.
   4. Locate the toilet brush. You cannot leave any visible trace of your transgression.
   5. Be as fast as possible, but be thorough. You do not want to have to do this again.
   6. A double flush is preferred to any type of remnants. You might be able to blame the action of the handle for “accidentally” flushing twice (it’s not like your toilet), but only you can be responsible for a stray floater.
   7. Wash your hands! You should do this anyway, but you need to make it conspicuous if you’re coming out of the bathroom. There’s already going to be a twinge (or more) of embarrassment when you see someone’s been waiting outside the door, but if they think you didn’t wash your hands you will be outed like a carrier of the plague. The only thing spreading faster than your germs will be the story of how you were in the bathroom for ten minutes, flushed twice, and immediately exited without running the faucet. Wash your hands. Turn the faucet on full blast for thirty seconds, actually wash your hands, then dry them—not with the friggin’ decorative hand towel! You can give a light rub to your hands as you exit to really sell that you did, without doubt, wash your hands.
10. Do not go out of your way to snoop through the host’s stuff. The medicine cabinet is okay, the underwear drawer in the upstairs master suite is not. The thinking here is the same as that behind 4.d.ii: The “Oh, I’m sorry, I got lost. Is the bathroom through here?” trick does not work.
11. Do not bring your obnoxious brat(s) if it’s not a kids party. You think they’re precious and precocious, I think they’re horrors.
12. Do not be an asshole to those in the service industry. You should (almost) always be polite, but there is never an excuse to be rude to waitstaff without provocation. If the event is catered or you’re at a restaurant, say “please” and “thank you”, for fuck’s sake. It’s guaranteed that most others won’t, so maybe you’ll score some points with someone who notices, but really it’s just the courteous thing to do.
13. Do not get three sheets to the wind and:
    1. start blathering loudly about how pathetic your life is and how no one likes you (consider it confirmed after you’ve finished your boozy soliloquy)*;
    2. get all aggro, pick fights, and break things;
    3. act as though you’re so badass and skilled when you obnoxiously announce to everyone that you’re about to get behind the wheel and that you do it all the time without incident.

Simple and self-evident, right? Now stop fucking up my parties.

 
 
* Don’t misunderstand: Drunken self-loathing is perfectly acceptable, especially at parties. See 4.d.ii for where to do it effectively.