I’m not entirely against ghosting before the third date.
~with some limitations~
I’m thinking about this now because there has been a lot of ghosting going on in my life over the last week.
First, I ran into Josh, a guy I met last April. He and I initially met online via Grindr but never made it to an in-person meet up because he stopped responding. Then, I was at Tidal Creek Brewhouse, my beloved Myrtle Beach bar, and he came up to me, told me he thought I was really cute and asked for my phone number. We hung out later that night, but there was something off for me — I still can’t place exactly what. The next day, he texted me and said he had a fun time. I never responded.
Fast forward: Last Wednesday, Josh was at my apartment complex’s pool with a friend. It was the second day in a row I’d seen them there, so I finally worked up the courage to go chat with them. I knew I hadn’t responded to his message nearly a year ago. I chatted with them for a bit and later when I saw Josh walking by my chair I asked if he wanted to get drinks sometime.
Later that same night, Kyler, who I met on Grindr in March 2021, texted me. He lived in Charleston but was new to the state and drove up to Myrtle Beach to meet me for drinks and hang out at the beach. I had a really nice time with him. We discussed me driving down to Charleston to see him, but he dropped off the map.
“Hey Chase. This is pretty random but i want to apologize for last year. You were a really nice guy and very hospitable and didn’t deserve to get ghosted like that. I should have been just straight up honest with you. Not sure why i was thinking about this but just wanted to let you know. No response necessary,” he said.
I was skeptical but intrigued. And, being myself, I decided to engage in a thought experiment.
“Lol you don’t have to apologize. We also have to deal with shit in our own time. Was it cool? Probably not. Am I offended? I haven’t thought about this in more than a year,” I replied.
“Also, and I say with the caveat that I appreciate you reaching out, please think about the source of your apology. Was it really for me? Or to absolve some kind of guilt for you? It doesn’t affect me either way, but I think a lot about these emotions, where they come from and what I’m trying to do with them.”
I expected some sort of vitriolic response, but Kyler happily obliged to my inquiry. That expectation came from my belief that too often we are trained to accept “forgiveness” without questioning its origins and are shunned when we do approach it with skepticism.
Texting back, he said, “That’s a good question. I mean id probably say it was for both of us. I’d argue that most apologies have benefits for both people. Well i hope at least. If it didn’t for you then that’s ok. Just wanted to say it anyways. Don’t see any harm in it. But what’s the point of any apology then i guess?”
Finally, I was at Tidal Friday afternoon when two gays walked in, Travis and Connor. I chatted with them for awhile and eventually they left, planning to head to our local gay club, Pulse.
Travis was married, and I couldn’t figure out whether Connor was into me. I figured that was the last time I’d see them — until Travis came back and asked if I wanted to join them.
I got to Pulse and had had one drink when Travis said he probably needed to leave soon. It seemed like Connor would be going as well. Then, the two disappeared for a chat only to come back later saying that while Travis was leaving, Connor planned to stay.
My flirty-senses were tingling, and I was right. Connor had stuck around to talk to me. We talked, got closer and kissed. Before leaving, I got his phone number.
But … what did I discover upon texting him? We’d met on a dating app last August, exchanged phone numbers and … he disappeared on me ahead of potential dinner plans.
For the third time in as many days, I was reckoning with a third instance of “ghosting” that I was involved in months before?
Oh, and in the days since, both Connor and Josh have vanished once again.
I’m not really mad about any of it.
(Caveat: Yes, I’m aware I can’t be mad about my own disappearance on Josh.)
My perspective on ghosting comes from one of understanding and compassion.
We, as a society, are tired. We are tired of the pandemic. We have decision fatigue. We spend more time than ever online because face-to-face interactions have become more, less and more difficult over the past few years.
And, as a result, if we haven’t developed much of a relationship, I’m really not going to be mad if you disappear into the ether of existence.
There are some standards I’ve laid out, however, after having discussed this ad nauseum with Lynda M. González, one of the editors of this newsletter.
No response required:
You have only talked to the person online, never met them in person and don’t have any specific plans (as in meeting at this place on this day at this time).
You have gone on only one or two dates and texting post-date is relatively limited.
Texting drops off. You text them and don’t hear anything back or they text you once and you don’t respond. Whatever you had has organically … died.
Yes, respond, seriously:
You have made specific plans to meet them (at this place on this day at this time). Don’t let somebody show up for dinner only to be left hanging.
You have gone on three or more dates.
The person texts you more than once asking about you. (The double or triple text.)
If any of the above three apply to you: Tell them “Sorry, I’m not really interested in you anymore.” It’s eight words. No thought involved. You don’t have to tell them “why.” You haven’t made it far enough for that to matter.
The difference between these two categories is the depth of relationship developed.
Very little connection? It’s fine to let it drop off and forget it all. You’re tired. They’re tired. Nobody owes anything to people who are virtual strangers.
Moderate to strong connection? Spend the damn time to tell them no.
Four years ago, Match.com released a study saying that men in Austin, where I went to college, were the “the worst-behaved singles in America.”
Match said men in Austin were:
549% more likely to ghost somebody
400% more likely to breadcrumb a date
297% more likely to come back as a zombie
And, look, as someone who has found all of his boyfriends so far in life in Austin, I’m not about to say they are wrong that those single men behaved terribly.
However, I’m not about to say that anywhere else I’ve lived — San Antonio, Dallas, Myrtle Beach — is any better.
Also, the company did not reveal what methods they used to judge such details, which makes me skeptical of the “ghost” statistic. What if the vast majority of those instances were the kind of “mutual ghosting” I was talking about earlier? What if most of them were like when Josh told me he had a nice night and then I didn’t respond?
Quote of the Week
Sometimes, I think the “mutual ghost” approach can be useful. In January, I told y’all about how I went on five dates with the same boy, the most in years.
On that last date, however, I realized he and I had major differences I doubted we could overcome. I think he knew it, too.
Rather than having some uncomfortable discussion about why that is, we both just let things lie, in silence.
I’m fully aware that some, if not many, people will not appreciate my perspective on this. But, instead of looking at me as an awful person who just leaves people hanging, consider that I am trying to free you of an obligation you didn’t want anyway.
That annoying guy on Tinder you’ve never met who won’t stop bothering you? Stop responding. Unmatch with him.
Feel like there’s a strange distance with you and so-and-so you’ve been on a couple dates with but don’t know what to do? Don’t text them. If they don’t text you, you’re in the clear.
Obviously, in a perfect world, we would tell everyone we express interest in exactly what we feel and move on without a thought. That’s not the world we live in.
Diagnoses of anxiety and depression soared to unprecedented levels in the last decade, especially the last few years. (I live it, as someone who has both.)
The pandemic has made us constantly question every decision we’ve ever made as we struggle to figure out how not to die each day.
The Internet has become an ever-more-toxic place. Finding love on it is anything but easy.
So, give yourself a little grace. It’s okay to not respond quickly, to not respond every time or to not respond at all, so long as you aren’t leaving them hanging in a situation that deserves an answer.
And for those of you who were and will be ghosted? Remember to have compassion. You don’t know what’s going on in that person’s life. One time, I accidentally ghosted someone because one of my childhood dogs had died. I wasn’t focused on anything other than my own grief, let alone the status of my Grindr messages or a man I’d been on two dates with.
Editorial help came from Acacia Coronado
More than just my Love Story
‘I Got Ghosted. Big Time.’ (New York Magazine)
Words as love: How to Communicate With People Suffering From Dementia. (Wall Street Journal)
Erm: Austin named the best city in the US for dating. (KXAN)
Self-love through art: Lizzo’s new album “Special” coming this July, with the single “About Damn Time” out now. Also check out her Amazon Prime series “Watch out for the Big Grrrls.”
Note: The names of the people in my columns have been changed to respect their privacy — and to allow me to spill a bunch of tea on all these people without remorse.