By ALISSA WARREN.
I was a professional at leaving parties, lunches, baby showers, dinners. Everything.
When I’d had enough, I left.
INTO THIN AIR.
Call it what you will. Ghosting. Phantom. Disappearing. Smoke-bombing. I was one of the best.
But I’ve stopped. Sort of.
When did we become so fearful of leaving? When did it become such a disaster to say good bye? When did we become so rude?
My smoke-bombing reached fever pitch last year. It was wedding season. Anyone and everyone was tying the knot. My weekly diet consisted of champagne, duck pancakes and “chicken or beef”. It was endless. And by the end of each ‘big day’ I just couldn’t face another conversation. I’d had not enough sleep and too much champagne. I became a professional bailer.
I was the opposite of a Wedding Crasher. I was a Wedding Ghoster.
I know I’m not alone. Ghosters are everywhere. Christmas Parties. Award Nights. Work Functions. Baby Showers. Yep, BABY SHOWERS.
It’s time to give the world’s most social awkward moment a few rules. A few … guidelines. It’s time to step up and own it. Because, for too long, smoke-bombing has owned us. There we are, committing a social sin in a cloud of smoke. Shamefully, awkwardly. Come out in to the open, friends. At least just a teeny bit. Stop the guilt.