The art of ghosting
I’m a serial ghoster, I have also cried enough to overflow a Great Barrier water tank because low-grade, weasels have ghosted me. I guess, it comes hand in hand when you’re actively dating. Sometimes dating claps you right back in the face – good thing I wear several thick moisturisers because ghosting is ruthless.
Ghosting, the art of leaving without saying goodbye, is a common practice in which one human ends a personal relationship with another human suddenly and without explanation. Poof, gone.
Have you ever been ghosted? Have you ever ghosted someone? Well, this one's for you.
I don’t think we should cancel ghosting, I don’t think ghosting someone necessarily makes you a bad person, I think ghosting is an intrinsic human instinct, I think it shows a person’s truth. I don’t think we’re allowed to make it so black and white, how can you make something so personal and unique so defined, you see, ghosting is just another behaviour.
It’s amazing how quickly humans can turn off their feelings, how something we used to have a liking to or hold close to our heart turns into nothing. Something that used to taste like rainbows now makes you cringe so hard you almost choke on your fake, porcelain veneers.
I know what it feels like to be ghosted. I think I fall too hard too quickly, I love eating dirt when I hit the ground and it’s a huge turn-off for some people. I hate awkwardly liking someone, I am a bulldozer, it’s better for me to get it all out on the table early because sooner or later they’re going to figure out I am a full-blown psycho ex, without ever actually dating. I’m the type of person that will read your phone when you’re asleep, I’ll religiously check when you were last active on Facebook messenger and mentally cancel you, maybe that’s why I am nearly 25 and the closest thing I’ve ever had to a boyfriend is a guy who didn’t even know we were in a relationship, let alone dated. I literally can’t hold down anything past two dates, I used to think I smelt really bad but I use full-blown chemical deodorant sticks that suffocate my armpit hair follicles and I spray enough Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir Room Spray on my neck that I can almost taste it sliding down the back of my throat as I am leaving the front door. Anyway, I think I am a lost cause and I am never going to try to feed you relationship advice, I’d rather become an Arbonne Independent Consultant before I open up a relationship column, but what I am fabulous at, arguably one of the best, is being unapologetically single.
You see, when you’ve been single for as long as me you forget relationships are a possibility. I’ve fallen in love with myself so many times I’ve lost count. I’ve also become a connoisseur of ghosting, whether I’m the perpetrator or the wallowing victim. Ghosting, although unforeseen in its nature, is a common occurrence and it most certainly is a two-way street.
I think getting ghosted feels similar to getting egged, definitely nasty and has a lingering smell of depression, hell, it hits you so hard at first that it almost smothers you to the point of incapacitation. Last time I got egged in the head I was 12, trick or treating down Victoria Avenue (Remuera Metropolis) and I was scarred for like three days post-egging. I remember the teenagers tooting at me as they pelted me with yellow yolk and how it drowned my hair, they shrieked and pulled their chode fingers at me as they sped off into the million-dollar distance, only to come to a screeching halt at the traffic lights. I was enthralled and ashamed. Getting ghosted can be a slow death or outright disappearing act, fucking magicians. People can slowly but surely deplete you by not engaging in easy conversations and being short until one day there is nothing left to do but ask them if they’re into you and just like that, “seen”. Or, and this is my favourite class of fuckery to dissect, they simply never message you back. You go for a three-course meal in the viaduct to some overpriced, run-down joint, drinking booze you cannot afford and don’t foresee ever being able to afford and try to dazzle them, you front up wearing the only clean garment you own and you serve up a side of charm mixed with enough concealer to cover anything remotely undesirable in your eyes. Hell, if you’re really trying to portray your individualism, you offer to split the check or even worse, pay for it all. You go home, proud of yourself that you didn’t put out and invite your date back home to show them what all those years of being single have taught you, you’re stoked with your composure, your coolness and you think “I’ll drop them a line in the morning”. So you drop that line, “Hey, thanks for last night! What are you upto this weekend” and nothing, not even a peep, you can hear the silent chuckles of the phone satellites laughing at your misfortune.
There are also really minute forms of ghosting, which I’ve dabbled in, when you ghost someone on dating apps, like when you get a better offer and you already have someone coming over to your house for a hookup and you’re like but omg, this guy is so much hotter and he just hit me up so I’ll take him instead and Houdini the other – as I mentioned, awful. But I refuse to lie to you. Arguably the shadiest of all ghosting manoeuvres is when you get ghosted in a relationship, which has never happened to me because I can barely get a guy to take me to Denny’s, but I would assume that’s nasty. Starting a formal relationship with someone would assume you have the willpower to formally end it too, but some people just don’t.
But let’s flip this. Ghosting is also a cushion, I’ve ghosted people before for various reasons. Sometimes I have too much going on to ever go for another drink and listen to you ramble on about your upcoming EP Release at Whammy Bar or how you consider one of your best talents to be waking and baking. I simply don’t have the time and I don’t want to hurt your feelings telling you that although from face-value I find you sexually entertaining our souls aren’t aligned, you’d mess with my chakras and I’ve spent years and thousands trying to align them. Also, it’s one date, you don’t deserve that explanation and I am not legally obliged to tell you anything, that’s controlling, manipulative behaviour and I am a free ball of energy bouncing around K Road bars dazzling old men into buying me vodka lime and sodas. What I am saying is, I owe you nothing and you owe me nothing, I know speaking my truth won’t do either of us any favours, so alas I’d rather ghost you.
While we’re here, below are a few other personal motives that would most likely stimulate me to ghost you:
If you Snapchat message me after midnight, I’m blocking you
If you tell me how bad vaping is for me while I am vaping
If you don’t let me vape in your car
If you haven’t washed your hair in the last year, I love a grubby, greasy look but that’s outrageous
If you ask me to cook anything ever
If you judge me for biting my own nails, but I’m out if you pick your toe nails in front of me
I hate farting
If you think I am a toy on Instagram, it hurts my feelings, even though I am
If you like me a bit too much, I am out, we need the sweet spot
If you have an air freshener in your car
If you drive a Nissan Cube
If you do F45
Also, what about a series of unforeseen or unfortunate events, this isn’t an excuse but you can’t plan what sort of fuckery is in store for you tomorrow. I might’ve left my phone in an OLA as I was scrummaging around trying to find my EFTPOS to pay for my drive-thru Big Mac with steamed buns, you know how it is. The point is, people might also ghost people and it has absolutely nothing to do with them. Sure a text or heads up would’ve been fabulous, but life happens and it will continue to happen, you can’t control this or anyone else’s actions except your own.
Ghosting can’t be pigeon-holed, there are too many variables, too much human energy that the term is almost redundant. Getting ghosted might just be the blessing in disguise you rightly deserve, after years of dating boys who pile rubbish on their bedside tables instead of magnesium capsules and Kiehl's Ultra Facial Cream, you might have dodged another bullet. Because, honestly, if you respect yourself and I know you should, you don’t need to be with anyone who doesn’t want a fine, fat slice of you. If they don’t want all of this, if they can’t handle all of you, then poof, good riddance. Also, anyone that ghosts someone after they’ve been in a relationship with someone for longer than like a month is a stain, but again, it’s really not your problem, it’s theirs and you need to key their car and move the fuck on. I joke, or.
So, let’s drop this predisposed stigma around ghosting, let’s ghost and be ghosted, because it’s all part of the turbulent ride that we’re all currently on and it’s taking each and everyone one of us for a hell of a spin, daily. Let’s be clear, I’m not encouraging everyone to randomly start avoiding people, but if that’s what you want to do, if that’s what you need to do, if that’s what feels right, then leave. If you want to Houdini someone, that’s on you. Just know that the energy you put out into this world will come back to bite you in the back in some way, shape or form. You can’t shame people for ghosting or feel ashamed for being ghosted, it’s all human energy, you can’t control anyone. Just do you, the right people will stay.
Words — Liam Sharma
