English Version | RSVP: thanks but no, thanks

Some people are so used to dodging invitations that not even the sight of a "répondez s'il vous plaît" intimidates them. They don't want to, they don’t go. They all succumbed to a gigantic indifference towards the "most incredible events ever" to the detriment of plans "as spectacular" as not doing anything at all. And no, they don't regret their decisions.

© Getty Images
© Getty Images

In the 21st century, concern manifests itself in surprising ways. "Are you are ok? I can't find you on Instagram. What's up?" The message, sent by a friend, referred to my absence — unexpected, sudden, unthinkable — from that social network. It was just one of many texts that I received when, at the end of 2017, I decided to “freeze” my account for three months. The tenor was always the same: "You've been missing, aren't you coming to X’s anniversary?" or, in a more dramatic version, "I can't believe you didn't go to Y’s party, it was amazing." I looked at these questions fondly. I knew that on the other side was someone who cared about me. Who, in their right mind, shuts down one of the most practical ways of communicating with the world — even more so when you are working from home and have, by force of circumstance, a reduced social life? Me. Me and surely thousands of people who, at time or another, have felt the urge to disconnect. To breathe. To reset. And if this is, in itself, a relief, so many are the benefits it brings us, starting with the extra hours we didn't know the days and nights could have, the decision also presupposes a certain nonchalant posture towards everything that happens outside our bubble. Take this imaginary dialogue, whose protagonist is JOMO, or the joy of missing out: "What do you do? Where do you go?", a simple answer, accompanied by zero emojis: “Nothing."

The concept of JOMO is not new. For some enlightened minds it will have always existed, even without having a name, a label. For others it only came about when Anil Dash (a writer and tech entrepreneur) realized, after the birth of his son and a whole month away from social media, that he wasn't that "afraid" of being left out. Dash wrote about it on his personal blog in 2012: "I've been to amazing events. I am still lucky enough to be able to attend moments and celebrations that are an incredible privilege to witness. But increasingly, my default response to invitations is 'no.' No, I'm not going. And when well-meaning hosts inevitably point out 'You'll regret not coming!' I won't say that out loud, but I'll probably think, 'No, actually I won't I won't.'" This is the purest and simplest definition of JOMO. Of course, "practicing" JOMO is not a flawless art. It is quite possible that in this journey towards a more peaceful existence we will have to make choices. For example, the joy we feel at being able to say no to an endless number of invitations, and thus enjoy our free time as we please, is not directly proportional to the (invisible) influence that sometimes forces us to watch eight episodes of a series in a row — because others have already seen it, yes, and because we have become accustomed to consuming this type of content without moderation. It is no accident that several applications already have a function that limits the time we devote to them (Screen Time). Often we are not leaving behind anything exciting. It's just "more of the same.” At the time of this writing, about 60% of the Instagram accounts I follow boast photos of singer Kanye West and his girlfriend, who are in Paris for Fashion Week. Their relevance to the event is, in my opinion, nil. However, the photographers seem intoxicated by their presence, and they extend that intoxication to reputable media outlets that, in their right mind, would never publish this kind of "news." Moral of the story: we don't need to be up to date with everything that happens everywhere, there are things we can be eternally ignorant about.

On Instagram, the hashtag #JOMO has thousands of posts, proof that the cry for freedom from FOMO is shared by more and more users. The memes follow one another, in a universal venting about that wonderful urge to “not do nothing special." JOMO is a kind of self-inflicted social exclusion that worships a single god (Free Time for the Sake of the Self) and practices a single religion (Bringing Mindfulness Home). It is missed and recommended. According to a survey conducted by LinkedIn in 2018, 70% of employees questioned admit that when they take a vacation, they can't fully disconnect from work. Why? Because our digital habits — which include checking, every minute, messages, emails, and social media feeds — have become so excessive that it's almost impossible to "enjoy the moment." 

Before we continue: when was the last time you watched a movie without refreshing on any app? I am ashamed to say that, in my case, it was 2012. But that's not all. We live with the feeling that we are always lagging behind, as if the weeks are a marathon and we have to keep up with the pace of others in case we miss "something", in case we are doing something wrong. Case in point: modern society has sold us the idea that on Fridays, as successful adults, we have to go out to dinner and dance, otherwise we are a rotten egg, so rotten that as the blank Fridays go by, we no longer count on the guest list of our so-called "cool friends." And then there are those surprises that only happen once-in-a-lifetime and that no one can turn away from. It is "rude" to say no, even if that is what we want, after all how many people would pay for the opportunity to share a table with Kanye West (disclaimer: never happened)? In the long run, all this causes stress, anxiety, sadness. When we act unpleasantly, we damage our well-being and our mental health. And you pay dearly for it. The most viable option, you see, is to practice JOMO, and accept this change of mentality as a path toward individual and spiritual growth.

Too shanti? Not at all. Adopting JOMO is taking back control of your life. That guilty feeling for canceling a date that was scheduled a week ago when we're devastated, with the first signs of what appears to be fever, and all we want to do is land on the couch? No. It. Doesn’t. Has. To. Exist. No one is suggesting that you start canceling everything and anything, because then you have a good chance of ending up alone, but a simple "I can't", with no more, or a "I don't feel like it", brutally sincere, will do more for you, and for those who love you, than any excuse you can invent. Because, if you think about it, your true friends — or at least those who are in a state of zen capable of understanding that energy attracts energy, and if your energy is meh, it's best to protect yourself — will appreciate your honesty and will never charge you for your decisions. Pretending to be sad that you're not going to a baby shower is very 2001. Crying crocodile tears (over the phone, of course, when it's impossible for people to see you on the other end) because you're not at your aunt and uncle's 27th wedding anniversary is a warning sign: a goof alert, that is. Just because "everybody" thinks program Z is spectacular doesn't mean we have to. If it were any other time, we would sum up JOMO much more succinctly: “I couldn’t care less anything, it's totally indifferent to me that it's the most amazing night ever. Pigs can fall from the sky, I'm not going anywhere.”

How to find out, then, if we are close to reaching JOMO? Is this nirvana, this state of perpetual bliss, for everyone? In 2021, while the pandemic was still in its infancy, half of Lisbon was in an uproar with a so-called sex party that was going to take place, a big deal, "as they do outside", everyone tested, of course, which is funny if you think that the purpose of the event was to exchange fluids, fancy dress code, etc. At some point the chance came up for a friend to go to this "celebration." She didn't even have to pay for the ticket! Irrecusable, right? Wrong. The words she used to excuse herself are not called for here, but her resounding "no" remains, because she has long ago exchanged JOMO for FOMO. Being satisfied today is almost an addiction — an addiction that we have to feed constantly, through the consumer culture that surrounds us — hence, turning our backs on anything that seems to undermine this supposed satisfaction is labeled as madness. Knowing what we want and living accordingly is an act of defiance, of power. 

JOMO is nothing transcendent. It is knowing that we are missing something, anything, and not letting it command our thoughts — not letting, above all, that it becomes a problem. It's celebrating the silence but not fearing the noise, because the act of "staying out" is a choice, not a consequence. It's choosing hobbies that would seem ridiculous to slaves of the e-invite, from couch and Netflix marathons (with cashmere blankets, tea, and an imaginary cat, for example) to endless soaking baths (with candles, a glass of wine, and a book we can't put down). It is taking the ancient wisdom that advises us to "be present" and adapting it to a world where distractions arise at the speed of light — because although we need all those stimuli of modern life, from social networks to unexpected scroll encounters, we must recognize that we don't need them as much as we think we do; the Earth will keep spinning if we miss a concert, if we skip a brunch, if we refuse a Sunday morning walk. JOMO is all this, and it is knowing that all this is right, because everything that makes us (feel) good can only be right. If you managed to read this text without consulting your smartphone, congratulations. You are on the right track. Next time you face a tedious RSVP, remember the maxim: "the truth, only the truth, and nothing but the truth."

Translated from the original on Vogue Portugal's Celebrate Yourself issue, published February 2022.Full story and credits on the print issue.