However, being invited is one thing, dealing with the invitation is another. And many of us will receive a large share of invitations via a certain little Internet service called Evite. I know, I know. Everyone loves Evite. Before this great innovation came our way, party hosts had the laborious task of writing up an e-mail announcing their events and then, gasp, typing people's addresses in the recipient field and sending it from their own accounts. And if you think that sounds medieval, I've heard there was a time when people called their friends on the phone to invite them to a party or, get this, wrote invitations by hand and distributed them through the U.S. mail!

And in case you think you can rise above the fray by not commenting, think again. A friend of mine did this and immediately received a call from the hostess asking, "Are you mad at me?" Given the party giver's apparent proximity to the telephone and concern for my friend's state of mind, you have to wonder why the invite didn't come in the form of a personal call in the first place. The reason is that there's just no drama in that. With its overt competitiveness, flashy graphics and emphasis on strategy (no need to commit until you know if anyone interesting will be in attendance), Evite is essentially a written transcript of our collective social anxieties.

And nothing leads to bad manners quite like social anxiety. Evites, which allow potential guests to check a "maybe" box (talk about enabling commitment phobias), do more than just invite guests. They invite the notion that the guest list is more important than the guests.

Maybe that's why I like receiving a simple e-mail with a simple subject heading like "come to my party." Sure, it's cryptic compared to an Evite, but what fun is a party without a little mystery? Besides, as important as guest lists are, everyone knows that a party is only as good as its cheese selection.