Okay. Hear me out. I’m a good person.
But I think ghosting is a-okay under certain circumstances. Sometimes the whole breakup song and dance is truly unwarranted.
You can trust me because this is coming from a v sweet and sensitive lez — I live my whole life obsessing over not hurting people’s feelings. I always thought a proper break up was in order — no matter how uncomfortable it might be — even for, like, my hairdresser. But there was a moment that changed my mind, and made me appreciate the underrated art of ghosting.
You see, I went on what I thought was an amazing date with this hot engineering girl. (Or did she want to be a surgeon?) Not sure, but she was wicked smart in some science or math-related field, and damn was she sexy as all hell.
We didn’t have a potential ~love connection~, that much I could tell, but I enjoyed talking to her, and I could tell she was entertained by and attracted to me. I quickly decided that we would have a one night stand, as she briefly mentioned she was planning on moving out of NY in the near future. No sweat, I thought, because like, I’m not crazy.
So we went back to my apartment and she gave me some of the best orgasms I ever had. She seemed like the type that wasn’t into cuddling so I was slightly shook when she didn’t seem to be leaving any time soon. My eyelids were drooping.
“Do you … want to .. stay?” I asked with trepidation. I know this is an ongoing debate in one-night-stand respectability politics, and I usually air on the side of romance and goodness, but I ALWAYS leave after a one night stand out of respect for the other person, who probably just wants to drool and watch Netflix in peace.
“Yes,” she sleepily mumbled and cuddled up to me. I was planning on ordering her a car but I’m not that much of an asshole so I was like “Okay great!” I hate cuddling with strangers, and my biggest fear is farting in my sleep, but I had no way of getting out of it, and she had just gone down on me for like two hours so I figured what the hell.
I barely slept and my heart hammered in my chest all night thanks to red wine and anxiety and my utter discomfort by doing something as intimate as SLEEPING with a stranger (f*cking a stranger is one thing, sleeping with them is a completely different monster). I got up around 8:00am to the sound of my roommate farting (our walls are so thin it might as well been my biggest fear coming true and me farting).
My date was still fast asleep so I decided to make her breakfast. I was so hungover that I couldn’t cook. JK I can never cook. I never have any groceries but I scrounged up some scrambled eggs and coffee. She still wasn’t awake. I cleaned the entire apartment. No, not surface clean. Like mop, bleach, the whole f*cking nine. I popped in and out of my room intermittently and she was still sound asleep. (Yes, I’m aware I could’ve just woken her up but I spent all of my social skills on our date the night before.)
Finally at noon, she woke up, and f*cked me so good I forgot I was even weirded out she stayed that long. Anyway, let’s move the story along so I can get to my point and have time to get ready for Wine Down Wednesday at my local bar tonight. Which, by the way, is an appropriate place to ghost someone.
After the hot pre-med (or was it architecture?) girl left my apartment, she wrote me a long-winded text about how she doesn’t think we’re compatible, and doesn’t want to see me again. I felt like she thought I was this crazy girl that gave off vibes I wanted to U-Haul or something, when in reality all I wanted to do was discuss “The L Word” and go down on each other. She literally broke up with me after a one night stand. And I didn’t feel respected. I felt annoyed. That’s when I thought: she should’ve just ghosted me.
That novel of a text was a total waste of her time, and an insult to me. Why couldn’t she just have never text me and simply appreciated our night for what it was? It seemed almost like a performative show of “respecting” me. I didn’t need it. And I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, and she projected on to me that I did. It was then I vowed to never do the same to a girl, and gained a new respect for going ghost.
Since that fateful night, I vowed that I would try ghosting so as not to be as dramatic as the accounting (or was she a paralegal?) girl. I went on a first date with an insanely sexy super high femme babe, and found out she doesn’t like to go out to bars and clubs. Instead of making a whole something-out-of-nothing and sending her paragraph upon paragraph explaining that I like her and respect her, but don’t think we’ll work out because I regularly drink like I’m going to the electric chair, I simply did not ask her out again. Voila!
You see, dear lez, my discovery is but a simple and obvious one, but one that took me a v long time to learn because I’m so worried about other people’s feelings. I’ve slept with people I wasn’t necessarily thrilled about sleeping with because I was too shy to say no. I’ve dated girls for way longer than I wanted to because I couldn’t muster the guts to break it off. Hell, I continued to see a girl after she straight up broke my vagina all because I was scared of hurting her feelings.
The discovery that I don’t owe anything to anyone, no matter how sweet or pretty she is, is revolutionary for me. So, my fellow ghosts, I see you and I get you.
How do YOU feel about ghosting? Tell us in the comments!
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