Mid-century Americans knew how to throw a party, for better or worse. In some of the most famous titles of the 1950s and 1960s—Couples, by John Updike; Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, by Edward Albee; Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates—the drama (and martini-soaked melodrama) took place in middle-class living rooms. The stories were fictional, but the setting was realistic. Until 1975, half of Americans said they entertained guests at their home every month.
Then something changed. Americans stopped throwing parties. Even more fundamental, they stopped visiting one another. From 1975 to 1998, the share of Americans who gave or attended a monthly dinner party declined by half. The share of Americans saying they never entertained people at home tripled. Although cultural critics often bemoan the decline of organized religion, the dip in church attendance was downright modest compared with the collapse in hosting, according to data gathered by the DDB Needham Life Style Surveys.
In his 2000 book, Bowling Alone, Robert Putnam wrote that if these trends continued, the ancient practice of visiting with friends “might entirely disappear from American life in less than a generation.” Check your calendars. One generation and change later, Putnam’s prediction needs an update.
So many of my friends have become infuriatingly flaky, and I can at least be sure that it’s not just with me because the other ones that can still make plans for something have independently mentioned it themselves. Even getting some of them together for some online games in the evening is a pain in the neck. Most often I just try to find things I’d like to do regardless of who shows up and say “I’m doing this thing at this time, if anyone wants to come too then give me a shout”
I set up a fun weekend a couple weeks back with one person visiting the house. She bailed a couple of days early for all sorts of reasons. People aren’t just flaky, they’re getting aggressive about how it’s unreasonable to make plans.