Kishore Singh: If only partying was simpler

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On Monday, I didn't go for the inauguration of an art show. Actually, make that two art shows, both of which I'd committed to because saying yes is easier than saying no. It meant missing out on wine and cheese (or probably just cheese-crackers) at one, and dinner with the artist at the other. I also failed to show up for a play I'd never intended to go to in the first place, and when on Tuesday an acquaintance rang up to ask why I'd skipped dinner after promising to be there at a friend's house, I simply lied saying my wife had been unwell.

"Why didn't we go then?" snapped my wife, from whom I'd concealed the invitations and the fact that she wasn't supposed to be well. I could have replied that I was tired, or that I'd forgotten, or that it didn't feel right that our daughter was swotting for her exams while we were out partying, but instead I said I was too stressed at work "" which I was "" to think of going out anywhere.

"So where aren't we going out this evening?" she asked sarcastically. "No one's asked us out tonight," I lied, thinking about the fashion frat party I had no intention of attending, or the hospitality party thrown by a food major, while also turning a blind eye and deaf ear to the public relations executives who I'd been promising I'd make an appearance, however brief, at their client's very happening page-3 party.

On Wednesday, on the evening before my daughter's next paper, I had told my wife we would stay at home no matter what, since her studies were paramount, which didn't stop some neighbours from coming over, so I didn't feel guilty about avoiding the 559th art event this week, or even the very hip "all white" party thrown by a luxury vodka maker along with some of the country's leading fashion designers.

On Thursday, when my wife found out about the party I had refrained from telling her about, she had a few things to say to me, none of which were complimentary. So the whole day at work I went around with a headache and the foolishness that afflicts those people who are doomed to repeat their mistakes, which I did by avoiding an interactive, cultural-intellectual discussion over beer and biryani that my wife had booked us in for a fortnight in advance.

As a result, we were not on talking terms on Friday morning, giving me hope that we might be able to skip an appearance at an evening event where her boss' presence made it mandatory for her (and therefore me) to be present in shiny, new clothes and false smiles.

Even so, before we left, she said to me, "Once we are through with my event, we can go to your party," thereby leading me to believe that she was not one to believe in false values of privacy and had, despite our disagreement, been rifling through my office bag. And if the timing of the invitation "" "9 pm onwards", which means show up before 11 pm at your own risk "" was anything to go by, it would be breakfast time for some on Saturday morning before we surfaced back home.

So I did the only thing worth doing: laid the blame on my office, which has an awards function this Saturday, telling my wife I had to leave bright as a button early in the morning, and therefore could not afford a late night out. I hope she never finds out that the timing of the office function which, though I haven't actually lied about it, is in the evening and not the morning. After all, who's to tell her otherwise?