By Anonymous
“Ghosting” is one of those Millennial neologisms that was invented to define a previously nameless act: when someone you’re seeing suddenly cuts off contact without an explanation. It is unsurprising that the term was coined in our hyperconnected era, in which ghosting seems inexcusable; after all, nowadays there are an infinite number of easy ways to stay in touch. In the pre-phone, pre-electricity era, “ghosting” wasn’t a word because instantaneous communication was impossible. While Odysseus was out being a fuckboy, he ghosted Penelope for two decades, though he at least had a legit excuse: no smartphones, no email, no Snapchat. Now there’s no excuse.
I’ve gone on probably a hundred online dates over the years, and guess what? I actually like being ghosted. In fact, I prefer it to any other means of breaking off a not-so-serious fling.
Many moralistic screeds have been written about why ghosting is wrong. Psychology Today published an article, “Why Ghosting Hurts So Much,” that includes plenty of sententious anecdotes from those who have been ghosted or did the ghosting:
“Looking through the lens of a cowardly, passive withdrawal from dating seems like the easiest and nicest route…until it’s done to you.”
“Going from texting every day and seeing each other a couple of times a week to nothing, without the slightest hint of why, was a kick in the gut.”
“Ghosting is one of the cruelest forms of torture dating can serve up.”
I found it unbelievable, though, when the author of this article writes that “social rejection activates the same pain pathways in the brain as physical pain.”I’ve gone on probably a hundred online dates over the years, and guess what — I actually like being ghosted. In fact, I prefer it to any other means of breaking off a not-so-serious fling.
I’m not some sociopath or cold-blooded monster. If I were ghosted by someone I’d been seeing for years, Odysseus-style, I’d be miserable. (Luckily, that’s never happened). But if we go on a few dates, and you decide it’s not working out, please, please ghost me.
Breakups are always painful. Yet ghosting dodges all that pain — the hours of back-and-forth bickering and conversation, the accusatory self-criticism. For me, the worst part of breaking up is that when you break it off with someone, whether through text, phone or face to face, you’re basically telling them that you don’t like some aspect of them. Some part of them isn’t quite right for you. And that kind of criticism — even when it’s something small or meaningless — really, really hurts.
Not everyone is like me. I have the sense that my positive feelings about ghosting relate to my own childhood psychology: I was bullied relentlessly as a kid, and though I grew up into a more or less successful adult, I still have thin skin. Likewise, I’ve struggled with depression, and I often feel like a failure for no reason. Yes, I am in therapy — and have been for years — which has helped me learn to take criticism without feeling tearful. But still, when it comes to personal criticism — as in, the kind you might receive if you were to pry into your ex-partners’ reasons for breaking up — I find it very difficult. It recalls feelings of being bullied and belittled. And I don’t want to recall those feelings.
When it comes to vicious breakups in the past, I’ve found I disliked dwelling on my inadequacies, especially if they’re only inadequacies in my ex-partner’s mind. I don’t want to hear what physical detail you find wrong with me, that my gut is too fat, that my bedroom skills lacking or that I just don’t get you off. I would rather just stay happy and never know. Subjective criticism hurts.
So you know what? If we go out on a few dates, and you want to cut it off, please don’t call and tell me why. Don’t tell me that my breath is bad or that my rosacea is unattractive, and that that is why it’s not working. Just ghost. I’ll be happier not knowing.
If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, it doesn’t make a sound. And if you break off our fling by ghosting, I’ll never feel the pain that comes with knowing why. Maybe you found a better match, or maybe you had chaos in your personal life that interrupted your ability to date. Or maybe you legitimately found my rosacea gross. I don’t mind either way, and I prefer the freedom of never knowing.
