Thanks for last night…
The topic of ghosting has resurfaced in entirely too prevalent a manner and I feel I must address it. Mostly all of us in the dating game have experienced it.
In fact, upon moving to CDMX, I was almost immediately ghosted by a non-romantic, potential girlfriend with whom I had tea and great conversation. I was really excited about having a new friend in a new city until she stopped answering my texts. I now know why [she was moving out of the country] but it felt really shitty at the time.
In case you’re one of the lucky ones who has no idea what I'm talking about, ghosting is, according to Very Well Mind, a relatively new colloquial term that means abandoning communication with someone.
I’ve lived through several ghosting experiences, some hurt and some didn’t, but the absolute worst of them all happened 10 years ago. With a man named J.
I had known J loosely through mutual friends and considered that he might be interested. However he was going through a separation at the time so nothing came of it right away.
One day I was at the airport on my way to Berlin when I suddenly felt a carry-on bag brush into my arm, and not gracefully either. When I looked up at the perpetrator I realized quickly that it was him. J just bumped into me! What are the odds? Yet he kept walking, pretending he didn’t notice me without saying a word.
A day or two later, an unknown number popped up on my phone. It was J. He must have asked a friend for my contact. Without so much as a mention of our airport incident, he suggested we meet soon for wine, an invitation so cryptic I had to ask him directly “Is this a date?”. He said yes.
The affair had officially begun.
J was the first (and perhaps only, of this caliber) super wealthy man I’d dated. He used to pick me up from my apartment in South Beach, a tiny, happy studio with a bright yellow accent wall and a colorful kitchen, in his sleek, dark blue Maserati convertible. I’d don a flirty dress and hop in the passenger seat, giddy and intimidated. He’d take me to fancy dinners and we’d have wonderful make out sessions in between discussions about history. He introduced me to good wine, luxury hotels, the Marco Polo series (and therefore my undying obsession for all things Mongol) and one of my very best friends in the world, S.
Nonetheless, his behavior was filled to the brim with red flags. He was a Jekyll and Hyde sort, for a week sending me “good morning” messages with heart-eyed emojis, calling me pet names like “diosa” and “preciosa”, detailing his agony over traveling for days and not being able to see me. It was magical and I felt so beautiful and appreciated.
But then, he’d disappear.
Sometimes for days at a time. If I reached out, he’d snap back coldly, saying he was busy at work. He ran his own financial consulting business for extremely high net worth clients, and busy* he was (See Below). I also knew he was simultaneously going through an intense breakup with 2 devastated children so I chose to remain passive. Our relationship became a game of sorts. He’d pull away, I'd die, he’d reappear with a gesture, sometimes grand and other times nuanced, I’d be roped right back in.
After a full effing year of this, we each took our own separate trips abroad. I would be gone for 3 weeks and was sick over the thought of not seeing him for so long. We made a plan to stay connected, choosing to talk by phone instead of text and send lots of pictures. And we did. Until the final week. He became distant. I was used to it, but it still made me anxious. The day I had to fly home, a grueling 18 hour journey that took me from Poland to London to Miami, I didn't hear from him at all. I was nonstop nauseous.
Because he normally picked me up from the airport, I had convinced myself that he would be there despite his behavior. Yet when I landed in Miami and frantically turned on my phone, I understood that he would not. One stark text from him: “Welcome back”. No “preciosa”, no emoji. My heart sank. I called. No answer. I called again. No answer. “I’m with my son. I can’t talk tonight.”
I woke up the next morning after a fitful night’s sleep and checked my phone right away. Surely he has sent me a message by now. Nope. Nothing. I called. No answer. I called again. No answer. I left a voice message. No response.
That day I sat on the beach, on the verge of vomiting, shaking and crying and trying to understand what was going on. Is he sick? Angry? In love with someone else? In the hospital?
I never saw him in real life again.
It took me months to calm myself down. I dyed my hair, exercised, indulged in as many Netflix series as possible. I checked my messages constantly and my Instagram stories obsessively, looking for any sign of his existence. He watched my stories for about a year, and then one day he just stopped.
I never saw him on social media again.
Despite living a mere 5 blocks from each other, the universe managed to keep him out of my sight. I found out years later that he got back together with his wife and the family moved abroad. I found out years after that that he and his wife often “separated” and then got back together, I guess that’s what kept the relationship going. So there were likely dozens of others like myself, left in the dark to find their own closure.
He was 39 at the time. I’m 39 now. There is no scenario in which I could imagine myself ghosting a nice, rational person after a year, some months, even some days. It’s just not the right thing to do, so why do it?
I don’t have an answer except that it ultimately doesn’t matter. It’s not honorable nor is it excusable, but if this person can’t take 2 minutes utilizing AI to come up with an appropriate breakup message to send, why should you spend 2 minutes contemplating their shitty behavior? There might be a lot of ghosts, but there are also a lot of incredible people who don’t let their internal battles get in the way of good communication.
The silver lining here is the more ghosts you know, the easier it will be to spot them early.
In the meantime, thank them, put on some smashing red lipstick/a sexy, form-fitting button down (preferably in white), and do your best to move on.
*Busy=Not Interested.
With love,
Bethany
