Chronic canceling doesn’t just affect working-age women, either: Even college kids, who ostensibly should have more time on their hands to hang, are experiencing the scourge. One young woman who just wrapped her second-to-last semester pointed out that her peers put pressure on themselves to do it all—excel at school, have a part-time job, experience the party scene—while also performing their lives on social media.

“We make social commitments to meet these expectations [put on us] by a competitive society, and then, when the time comes, we’re so worn out we cancel,” said the student, Caroline. She also pointed out another thing that many other women reported: that even though they find it supremely frustrating when friends cancel plans, they themselves do it more than they’d like to admit. And they often agree to plans they know they won’t be keeping, because it’s easier to say yes and cancel later than to say no in the moment.

“Everybody does it,” Caroline adds.” I think people don’t expect as much from one another anymore.”

Some put the blame squarely on the way we communicate in the digital age—without the accountability of face-to-face contact. “It’s so easy to make fast plans, and if something ‘better’ comes up it’s so easy to cancel," another woman, Stacey, told me. Others echoed her sentiment, adding that—thanks to social media—FOMO (that's fear of missing out) is often at play: We say yes to everything because we don't want to miss anything, and because we want to continue to be asked.

Yes, there’s value in self-care and “me time,” but there’s a level of narcissism involved in the idea that we think we're too busy, or stressed, to devote time to anyone but ourselves

But over the last couple years, something fundamental has changed: Our FOMO has been replaced by FOGO (fear of going out). Performative admissions of how much better it is to stay home have become the thing to do on social media. There are countless memes dedicated to the fact that early bedtimes and hanging solo on the couch has become preferable to spending time with our friends. Canceling plans to be alone is a reasonable enough excuse, and yes, there’s value in self-care and “me time.” But there's also a level of narcissism inherent to the idea that we think we're too busy, stressed, or mentally exhausted to devote time to anyone but ourselves. It’s at odds with the very idea of friendship.

Still, in spite of complaints about how often they get canceled on or cancel on others, women largely agreed on the fact that how often you keep a plan isn’t necessarily a barometer of the value you place on the friendship itself. More, it's just a sign of the times. The fact is that we are worn out these days for all kinds of reasons that differ from even a few years ago: We've got a lot on our minds, and our plates. Given the current cultural climate, political activism is up, as is generalized stress about the state of the world—57 percent of women between the ages of 18 and 49 report being more anxious in 2018 than they were the year before. From headlines about what’s happening at the border, the future of the Supreme Court, and widespread sexual harassment, the desire to avoid reality is understandable.

Today’s friendships might be galvanized by national fire drills—like attending the Women’s March—but falter in the ins-and-outs of every day

At the same time, our cultural doldrums make investing in friendships all the more important. As Kayleen Schaefer, the author of Text Me When You Get Home, a nonfiction book on modern female friendship, told me, today’s friendships might be galvanized by national fire drills—like attending the Women’s March—but falter in the ins-and-outs of every day. “No one likes to feel like they aren’t valued in a relationship,” she said. But coming together in sorority to advocate for shared beliefs and causes can help remind women of why they are friends in the first place. It's a helpful reminder of how much we need one another, and a testament to how vital it is to have women we love, and lean on, in our lives.

As for my canceled coffee date, eventually we did manage to get it rescheduled. Personally, I think the person who cancels should be the one to set the next date—and that the more egregious the cancelation, the more convenient the new meet-up should be for the person who got ditched. (This is unofficial Emily Post etiquette for the modern era. For the record, I also advocate for picking up the phone when you're going to cancel last-minute; the blow is softened by actually hearing someone's voice.) We had coffee, near both our offices, before going our separate ways.

Hours later, I was sitting at my desk when another ping came from my bag. “Happy hour next Friday?” wrote that same girlfriend, who had included a couple others on the chain. A flurry of texts, and a sense of general agreement followed: It has been too long since we'd all hung out, and we needed to be better about finding time to hang. I’m happy to report that—somehow, seemingly against the odds—we all managed to make, and keep, that date.

Elizabeth Kiefer is a New York–based writer and regular Glamour.com contributor.