When it comes to socialising, an RSVP is your cue to think up excuses not to attend

At a recent drinks party, probably half my guests were only present because they had not had a better offer

One in three of us accepts every social invitation, whether meaning to attend or not (Getty)

I have long thought that “yes” is the new “no”. It requires too much moral energy to say “no”, so people either say “yes” but then don’t follow through, or they don’t say anything at all. It’s a theory I developed through observation of the febrile media world, in which a firm “no” is almost to be prized: “At least they got back to me.”

A survey conducted by the sweet manufacturer Mentos, and reported on last week, seemed to underline the point. It revealed that one in three of us accepts every social invitation, whether meaning to attend or not; also that the average Briton makes 104 social arrangements every year while only turning up to half of them.

I recently gave a fairly large-scale drinks party, to which an RSVP was requested, and I found that I was, in effect, testing my friends’ morality as applied to socialising. (Which is not the same, I admit, as absolute morality.) At the bottom rung of the ladder we might put those who had no intention of coming and couldn’t be bothered to say so. We then move on to those who did respond… about 60 per cent of those invited. Almost all the RSVPs were a “yes”, and this bracket contained, in reverse order of morality, those who had no intention of attending but were too spineless to say “no”; those who had no intention of attending but had resolved to come up with an excuse nearer the time and present it before the event; those who had no intention of attending but had resolved to come up with an excuse after the event; those who hadn’t yet decided; and those who actually meant “yes” when they said “yes”.

There was then the special category of those who vaguely felt they might come, but didn’t RSVP, and those – the most unfathomable psychological types of all – who were delighted to be asked, were determined to attend… yet still didn’t RSVP.

As the event approached, what we might call the pre-emptive excusers roused themselves to action. In some cases, not very much action, so I had a couple of “Can’t make it next week – something’s come up”. Now I don’t mind “Something’s come up”. It has a kind of slovenly elegance, but its counterpart, as employed by the post-event excusers, “Something came up”… that’s a bit too slovenly.

You can tell when excusers are lying because the excuse carries an over-enthusiastic rider, as in: “Sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday. I had a bad headache, but I hope it went really, really, really well, and let’s meet up very soon.”

Ultimately I considered the event a success, but as I congratulated myself on a good haul of guests, I applied the necessary corrective: probably half of them were only present because nothing had come up: they hadn’t had a better offer. I then banished this thought in the usual way: with many glasses of wine.

Andrew Martin’s latest novel, The Yellow Diamond, is published by Faber