I clicked “Going” on your event’s Facebook page.

Not attending.

I clicked “Going” on your event’s Facebook page and left a comment about how excited I am for this event because you, girl, are finally coming into your own, and it’s about damn time!

Not attending.

I clicked “Interested” on your event’s Facebook page.

I have already forgotten that your event exists.

I did not respond to your event’s Facebook page in any way.

I have forgotten that you exist.

I recently posted an article on Facebook about what introversion really is.

Not attending, and, frankly, a little insulted that you asked.

I R.S.V.P.’d “Maybe” to your Evite.

Not attending but, apparently, afraid to say so.

I R.S.V.P.’d “Maybe” to your Evite and left a long note about how I’m hoping to be there, but only if the other event I have to attend before yours happens to—oh, please, God!—run a little short, so that I can dash over to yours, which is obviously the event I really want to go to!

Not attending, and the event before yours is watching old “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” episodes, which I can stream literally anytime.

I R.S.V.P.’d “Yes, I’ll Be There” to your Evite.

Yes, I’ll be there, but it’s a good thing you didn’t hear how I said that out loud.

I’ve already texted you twice to see if you want any help setting up.

I need a favor.

I showed up early to help set up and brought a bottle of wine and a bowl of spiced almonds I roasted myself.

It’s a big favor.

I said I’d be there, but you see my mug shot on television just before you head out to your event.

I should have asked you for that big favor two days ago.

You sent a paper invitation and a request to R.S.V.P. by phone.

I am attending, but only because the idea of actually calling you is more alarming than showing up. Well played, you.

I retweeted a notice about your upcoming event.

If three people attend after they find out about the event from my tweet, well, isn’t that better than just one of me attending?

I told you in person that I was totally, definitely going to be there.

I might be there. Honestly, even I don’t know what I’ll decide. I’m incorrigible!

I quizzed you about the food you’ll serve at your event.

I will be there because your appetizers have piqued my interest. Just an idea: maybe put that information on the invitation next time?

You spotted me in the foyer of the building in which your event is just kicking off.

I’m scanning to make sure that Cynthia, your friend from work who spent fifteen minutes at your last event trying to get me to buy false eyelashes via her pyramid scheme, isn’t already inside. If I spot her, I’m gone.

I told you in person that, yes, I’ll be there, and that I’m looking forward to it.

I actually like you, and I will attend your event.

I told you that I would be there because “it’ll be good for me to get out of the house and try being in public without Nick for the first time!”

I will not be there, and you dodged a bullet.