I’m proud to be a flake and I’ll never change

EVERY Monday morning after two flat whites I open my diary and think ‘Oh God, no way’ before setting about cancelling and rearranging the plans I made the week before.

I do this because I am what is known as a giant flake — not a chocolate bar women eat in the bath — but a person who makes plans to go to the movies, yoga classes, book launches, lunches, leaving drinks and birthday parties week in/week out, and then goes to fewer than half of them.

Depending on your outlook, you might think this behaviour is frustrating, disgraceful or punishable by death — but for all the people who militantly stick to their plans (the same person who actually read the book club book), there are just as many fellow flakes out there reading this relieved and thinking ‘same’.

Just this morning I texted an ex-colleague who I have been planning to meet up with since before Christmas but both of us keep cancelling. One week I’m hungover, the next her new kitty has diarrhoea, another time both of us double booked.

It’s not that I don’t want to see her, it’s just life gets in the way, cats get dodgy tummies — and that’s fine by me. We will meet up eventually. It’ll probably take 65 more messages and reschedules to land on when.

I’m not so much of a flake that I’d leave someone hanging a few hours before we are due to meet (though the thought has crossed my mind) but I just don’t see the harm in a little flaky flexibility (unless you’ve spent €50 on tickets to a play you don’t really want to see).

Our lives feel so regimented, is it really that bad if I decide to cancel the cinema and go to the pub instead?