When it comes to rejection, no word is as good as "No."

When was the last time someone called you to invite you to an event? A dinner date, a birthday party, a trip? When was the last time you called someone on the phone and invited them to something? I can't remember a time in recent history.

My childhood was complete with telephone invitations -- from asking my neighbor if he could come out to play or a friend if she could sleepover.

I am most reminded of these phone calls in August. After thoughtfully creating a list of names and phone numbers, I would call each of my friends to invite her to my birthday party. I still remember the short moments of nervous wonder while my friend went to ask her mom or dad if she could attend. She always returned with a "yes" or "no."

There was no "maybe." No "I'll let you know." And even if I didn't like the response ("My mom said no,") there was always an immediate answer.

Regardless of each answer, my birthday, and the party, would take place, and the happiest of days it would be.

I wasn't the only one making and receiving phone call invitations during my childhood.

My mom made and received dinner invitation phone calls all the time. When she was on the answering side, she had split seconds in those moments after, "I'm calling to invite you to dinner on August 18th," to determine whether or not our family would attend the dinner. Beyond determining four people's availability, she also made other considerations like how tired my dad would be on a Friday evening or the fact that it was too close to my brother's piano recital or my history test. Almost never did she respond with, "I'll let you know," and in those rare cases, it was assumed that she would follow up within twenty-four hours after family discussion. And she always did.

I don't know when it happened, or maybe it was more gradual, but my sent and received phone call invitations were replaced by email, evites, and texts. But it's not just the invitation method that has been replaced. The responses are different too.

The asynchronous nature of invitations makes it easy for us to let the invitation linger -- for minutes, for hours, for days -- especially when, despite being available, we kind of want to say "no."

Maybe we're interested in waiting to see (because these methods allow it) who else will be attending. Perhaps we want to do something but are holding out to see if a better option, a better person, presents itself.

All of this chalks up to the fact that we simply hate saying "no." It's such a mean, sad word. There's something so airy about keeping our options open while remaining kind and cordial. By not saying "no," we hope to save someone else's emotions.

There is a definitive happiness in the indefinite.

Or is there?

Let's step back and think about it from a different lens.

Imagine you submit your resume for a role at your dream job. Three weeks later, you still haven't heard back. Well, it is a large company. It probably gets a huge volume of applications you tell yourself. I'll wait a little longer. Three weeks later, still no word. Maybe they're still getting their act together you justify. You start half-heartedly applying to other positions, but slowly. Murphy's law, I'll take another job and hear from Dream Company a day later.

Meanwhile, Dream Company has happily filled the role with some other qualified candidate who is already enjoying free meals and a compensated spa membership.

Imagine another scenario:

You and a young woman have gone on a few dates. You are madly in love. She is the one. One day, she tells you she is very busy but would love to meet up soon once things settle down. "Of course," you say. You want to give your future wife her space!

You casually date other people while you wait, but never letting yourself care too much. This is a stop-gap. A few months go by. Feeling that things must be less busy, you reach out to your woman friend via text. She responds a few days later.

Totally. It HAS been a while. Would love to catch up sometime. 

Your heart leaps at the response, but you wish it would've been a bit more committal. Oh well. You persist. Friday night drinks?

Hm...I *might* be able to. Not sure.

She never follows up and you end up going to the bars Friday night with some friends. Coincidentally, she is at the same bar as you. In a corner, very cozy with another man.

Between technology and adulthood, we rarely get flat-out rejected these days. Employers don't say no. Publishers don't say no. Boys don't say no. We just assume "No" from silence. And we don't really assume "No" per se. We assume something more like, "Not now, maybe later."

Without the pressure of a real-time required response, we can easily fall back on our very human desire to keep our options open.

But "options" don't actually help us maintain light, airy happiness as we think they do.

My brother did joint birthday parties more graciously than I

In a study by Harvard psychologist Dan Gilbert, participants were told to choose an art poster to keep. Thirty days later, those who had been told they could change their mind reported being less happy with their decision that those who were not given an option to exchange it. With the option to return it, these people weren't fully behind their decision.

When we make a firm decision, our "psychological immune system" kicks in to help us justify why that was the right choice. This is the same system that helps our rejected social partners get past the emotional blow. But by leaving things uncertain and in flux, we prevent this rationalization from occurring, which brings us down and brings others down with us.

This limbo state is worse on our emotions than a "no." This is the same for considering various job options, career paths, romantic partners, or really any other life choices.

Saying "no" is hard. Typing it is worse. But remember that in doing so, you and the person who received it will actually end up more satisfied than if you leave things in the air. Of course, this doesn't mean that you need to be rude or mean. Your "no" can be cushioned, so long as it is not lost completely.

Going back to birthday parties, think of it this way: It is the best -- the happiest -- birthday present you can give to or receive from a person.