“I Want to Be Invited but I Don’t Want to Go”

There's JOMO, there's FOMO, and then there's WTBIBNWTG: wanting to be invited but not wanting to go.

There's the joy of missing out (JOMO), there's the fear of missing out (FOMO), and then there's what I like to call WTBIBNWTG: wanting to be invited but not wanting to go. Honestly, if that last one had a better acronym, it would be more culturally referenced than Sambas.

Let's start with the one I know we allllll like to revel in: the simple joy of missing out. JOMO is the satisfaction of being home, braless in your softest sweatpants, watching Netflix with your favorite overpriced candle burning. Somewhere out there, people are wearing painful heels, small-talking over loud music, and waiting 20 minutes for cocktails—but not you. No, you’re horizontal, drinking tea that you’ll forget about until it’s cold, and it’s heaven. JOMO is like giving yourself a gold star for knowing your limits and tuning into what your gut is likely telling you.

Then there’s FOMO, that sinking feeling of, “Everyone else is living their best life, and you’re…not.” You see photos and stories on IG of something you're missing out on, and suddenly, you’re feeling left out. Should you have gone (if you were invited)? Would it have changed your life? Spoiler: it wouldn’t have. But that's the thing about FOMO: it convinces you that you’re missing out on something when, realistically, it’s probably just people standing around awkwardly checking their phones and strangers asking, “So what do you do?”

Like many, I relish JOMO and do have a healthy dose of FOMO, but what I have identified with most for the last several years is “wanting to be invited, but not wanting to go” (WTBIBNWTG). I've done some self-analyzing on the matter, and what's tricky about this is that it’s not about the event (we’re talking events and not your BFF’s intimate dinner)—it’s about being wanted.