I Ghosted Someone and I Know It’s A Terrible Thing To Do But I Did It Anyway


So one of the meanest things to do in this day and age is called ghosting: suddenly disappearing from someone’s life without a trace. Essentially, you randomly and abruptly stop texting them, you block them from social media, and you never acknowledge their presence again. I don’t have to explain to you how awful that feels to the person on the other end; you can imagine.

Guys, I’m a horrible person.

Let me explain.

So during those ten days I took off from blogging for the YUNiversity, I was in a summer program at NYU. I met this awesome human being (who is not reading this, hopefully, because she’ll probably be super mad at me) with whom I instantly latched onto because we both loved talking about the same things — everything from grammar to music to guys. One day, she brought up a good friend of hers; she thought he would “be totally great for me!” because he was my age, gay, and single.

(A note to all girls who are friends with more than one gay person, one of whom is me: Do. Not. Set. Me. Up. If the only thing definitely in common between your “other gay best friend!” and me is our sexuality, then we are not destined to be together. Thank you. This has been a message from the gay community to all girls with gay friends.)

Anyway, I laughed it off and told her I’d consider it because I’m a nice person who doesn’t know how to tell someone in no small terms that I’m not looking for a relationship in any capacity. (Surprise, surprise — the hopeless romantic isn’t actually looking for love right now. Blame the Common App.) From the way she gushed about him, he really did seem like a nice person. That being said, I still dropped my phone on my face in surprise when he texted me out of the blue one night and said that my friend had given him my number. Because yikes. Here we go.

Thus began a long sequence of conversation. He was nice enough but very earnest — by the second day he was telling me that I was overworking myself and he didn’t want to see anyone he cared about stretching themselves thin. It wasn’t creepy, but it was still too much. No, I did not want to acknowledge that he’d just said something some legitimate couples don’t even say to each other — and no, I did not want him to call me. I wasn’t ready for a conversation with someone I knew I had to probably put down. I don’t ever want to be the guy that leads someone on; unfortunately, in the beginning I’d flirted back. (The attention was nice, okay? I’m still not used to people actually finding me remotely attractive.) One day, he did call me; thankfully, my phone was dead at the time and I only got a stream of reproachful messages about my avoiding him. By this time I had known him online for exactly five days.

By the way, I wasn’t actively avoiding him yet.

But hey, now that you mention it.

A couple of days later, he texted a half-hearted “What’s up?” and promptly jarred me from whatever thrall of self-hatred the UChicago supplements had me under.

“Nothing much,” I texted back, “Crying over the Common App, mostly.”

To which he replied, “What’s a common app?”

I took it as a sign.

I never responded to another “Heyyyy” again.

I know what you’re thinking. And to be honest, I agree. Yes, I’m an utter hypocrite for writing about Millennials not being brave enough with their feelings and then going ahead and using Millennial technology to avoid a conversation I didn’t want to have. Yes, what I did was very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very wrong, and no, you shouldn’t do it. Seriously, don’t.

That being said, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling a guy who was telling me about how romantic Ferris wheels were by the end of our first conversation that I wasn’t interested in him. I’ve been in his shoes— I’ve met people and thought I was in love by Day 3 of our having met. And it’s a sucky place to be in when you get rejected; TRUST ME, I KNOW. And I really didn’t want to be that person. But situations like this, where I’m the recipient of someone’s affections, have actually never happened before in my life.

So yeah, I panicked.

I’m still totally going to hell, though.