Here’s Your Sign Not to Ghost Them
Let’s set the scene: you meet someone while you’re out. You two really hit it off, you’re dancing together, the chemistry is there, and you might have even just experienced a flutter of butterflies. You’re so caught up in the music and each other’s company that you don’t realize the night is closing out. As you two linger and the music volume continues to dim, you figure why not and exit together, hand in hand. You have what you think is the perfect night, just the right ratio of talking and not talking. You walk out the next morning, fitted up in a mix-match of your jeans from the night before and a new oversized hoodie. As you mobile order your Starbucks and hurry home to debrief with your roommate, you can’t help but hope the night before was the start of something special.
And then, you wait. You occasionally pick up your phone and pull down on your screen to refresh and see if they snapchatted you yet. Not that you care. No, you totally thought it was casual, too. Approximately 8 hours later (who’s counting, anyways?) you get a notification. A little red box awaits you. You toss your phone away from you, because you can’t be caught dead opening it anytime soon. You let yourself smile–but only for a second. Casual. Casual. You will not let yourself catch feelings.
An exchange of selfies splattered with the text, “Heyy” and “Hi!” blend into a brief attempt into getting to know each other further. “Do you have a lot of work this week?” “No, not really, hbu?” “Yea I have a huge midterm this week. We’re mixing together on Thursday though, right?” “Oh yea, we are. That’ll be fun!” “For sure. See you there.”
As the days go on, you talk sporadically at 6 hour intervals, both cooperating. Understanding the assignment. Keeping it casual. Finally, Thursday night rolls around. And, as promised, you see each other. And then, Friday morning rolls around. Another Starbucks mobile order later, and you’re back where you started. “Yea, it was really fun, but I mean, I’m not expecting anything to come of it,” you tell your roommate. You add on in a slightly quieter tone, “well, I guess I would do it again, but right now I am just trying to get to know them better. I doubt they’re looking for anything serious right now.” As the words come out of your mouth, your phone vibrates. A snapchat notification. You catch yourself noticing how much faster the follow-up came this week. You smile–but only for a second. Casual.
More small talk. You hear whispers from your mutual friends, inquiring, “what’s going on between you two?” You brush it off. But, you silently hope to yourself maybe there is something more. That Wednesday, your phone buzzes. You had been ignoring it, it hadn’t given you any good news in the past 13 hours. What does anyone do for thirteen hours without their phone?! You exhale. Good news. Plans to watch a movie, and not that night, but on Friday. Wow! Could it be… effort? You smile–but only for a second.
Friday bleeds into Saturday, when you check to see if your free Lyft is still available. Your phone flashes the time 2:03AM. It’s not. You shutter at the idea of staying over, when suddenly he offers to walk you home. What a gentleman, you think to yourself. An awkward hug goodnight and you head up to your room. You smile–but only as you walk upstairs.
Your phone lights up. You see a text, “That was fun. See you around.” You think for a second before replying, “It was fun. See you soon.”
It’s Monday. Almost 3 full weeks–not to mention, in college time. You’re getting dangerously close to attaining the yellow heart on snapchat. Is this what commitment in college looks like? You can’t help but notice your conversations slowing down. You worry if you’ll make it to the weekend. Wednesday afternoon your stomach drops. Opened, 3 hours ago. You rationalize, it’s a busy week. You delete the app to protect yourself from the potential that it’s over. You’ll check back later that night. You have homework to do, anyways. You feel a pang of sadness–but only for a second. Casual.
Thursday morning, and no stupid red box has presented itself. Your roommate suggests you order Starbucks and go for a walk together. You oblige.
“I promise, I’m fine,” you tell her, “I don’t know what I was expecting. He’s pledging for God’s sake!” She convinces you to accompany her out for a night on the town. You oblige.
Thursday night, and you look fabulous. You’re dancing, laughing, and, most importantly, forgetting about a boy with whom you shared a 17 day snapchat streak. All of a sudden, you see his friends. You flush with embarrassment. They have to know. They greet you, asking you if you’ve seen him. “No,” you grit through a smile, refusing to show weakness. You return to your dancing, surrounding yourself with your girlfriends, remembering how lucky you are. Then, he walks in with another girl. You feel a gut-punch of sadness. This one lasts longer than a second. So much for casual.
You tough it out for the night. You rally. But, you can’t help but look over at the two of them. He didn’t do anything wrong, you mow over with yourself. You were never exclusive, and it’s not like you were hanging out for long, anyways, you consider. You only liked the idea of it, anyways, you tell yourself. You wonder if that’s true. You walk home, hand in hand with your roommate. You’re not heartbroken, but you’re not delighted. So much for casual.
It’s Friday morning and you treat yourself with a Starbucks mobile order. But, you stray from your old, faithful order. You leave the taste of 1 pump of pumpkin sauce behind as a rite in the funeral of something you thought might be special, not just casual. You let the plain cold-brew wash down any residual feelings that are trying to creep up. You complain to your roommates, “it’s just weird! I thought we were on the same page.” They nod, knowingly. “We’ve all been there,” they affirm in solidarity. You lament, “I feel like I made a fool out of myself.” They stop you, “no, no, it’s his loss.” You choose to believe them. You wonder why he couldn’t have mentioned to you that he wasn’t really interested. You feel that you’re to blame, telling yourself you shouldn’t have thought they might like you. But, also, you internally defend yourself, he could’ve been honest. You over-analyze, questioning what about you could be wrong. Nothing, you remind yourself. Rejection is redirection you repeat to yourself.
It’s the following Saturday and you have spent the week licking your wounds. You finally decided you won’t wait around for an explanation that doesn’t even exist. Progress. You’re back on your feet, your heart is back in one piece (it never quite shattered), and you’re hell-bent in protecting yourself from being hurt again. And, you’re set on avoiding the boy who ghosted you. You station yourself on a riser surrounded by your friends. You look up and see him across the party. Oh no, awkward eye-contact. He waves–for a second. You nod your head in his direction–for a second. Casual. Maybe you’ll even be friends, down the road, you think. Probably not, on second thought. Weird.
And, scene.
PS: Isn’t growing up fun?
PPS: Normalize sending a quick and sweet, “Hey, I am not interested in pursuing this any further.” A little honest communication never hurt anybody! (I mean, at least no more than being ghosted.)