Vanishing Acts Pt. 1: Getting Ghosted
A 43 year old man and three months of dating
Last year I went on 17 first dates, most of them were in Europe during my sabbatical. I enjoyed the numerous rendezvous (very much so), but underneath the surface of fun exchanges with Spanish men, I knew that dating was changing for me. One night after enjoying the company of a handsome French man (who had the chiseled chest of a leading man), I found myself wishing for more. And while this feeling was not new, it was louder than any prior moment it had previously appeared. Like the bells rung at churches, signaling a significant event, a deep shift was rising within.
This year, I’ve had seven first dates. Given the realization of last year, I dated less on purpose. Or as they say on Hinge: dating with intention. A few of those dates never made it to a 2nd. One was attentive (yey) but vaped (no thanks), another blocked my car with his car while leaning in and telling me I should stay the night (this felt scary), another said communication was his strong suit… but went days without talking to me (*looks directly at the camera*). Deflated. Back to back, to back, to back. Whiplash.
With that said, one of those dates did turn into 3.5 months of fun outings, big honest conversations, slow burning it, international FaceTime calls, delicious make-out sessions and finally, (and underwhelmingly), getting ghosted after being dropped off at LAX with a hug and a tap kiss at 5am mid-August.
*AN AUDIO CAVEAT FOR THE AUDIENCE*
*BACK TO THE STORY*
I am going to call this man Tripp (a nod to Matthew McConaughey’s character in ‘Failure to Launch’ where he is so fun and so cute, but unable to commit due to the unresolved loss from his previous relationship).
Tripp and I met on a dating app and had great rapport. The conversation was a steady ping pong match that soon led us to dinner, wine, and playing each others favorite songs in the car with the sunroof down. It was the kind of date you instinctively know will only get better by the hour. I was so enchanted by the deepness of his voice, the scent of his cologne and the way he looked at me whenever our eyes locked, that we shut down the restaurant. The manager was quite literally blowing out candles and locking doors forcing us to read the empty room! The weeks that followed had him making spontaneous plans to see me, even if just for a short amount of time. I had to remind him (and me) that fast & furious dating ends as quickly as it starts, and that I really wanted the type of intimacy that could lead to deep connection and friendship.
So much so that I told him I was practicing celibacy (I promise you intimacy and celibacy can co-exist harmoniously). I knew that spending a condensed but intense amount of quality time with someone can give a false sense of intimacy in a new relationship. And when you add sex to the equation (oxytocin has entered the chat), you end up with a cheap pair of rose colored glasses on. And I didn’t (and don’t) want that.
I don’t want to fall for potential. I don’t want to fall for false narratives. I don’t want to fall period. I want to opt into a relationship where I fully see the person. Where are they the master and the student? Where do they struggle and feel challenged? What motivates them and sparks them up? The shadowy and the light. I want mutual alignment, honesty, respect, joy and sweet tender love. And that requires a clear mind and a soft heart. Immediate sex blurs that. For me anyway. Especially when the guy is fioneeee. And the shape of Tripp’s lips were distraction enough!
He was totally cool with this. And agreed that the slow burn was a good idea. And to be clear, we were not exclusive. Tripp could sow his wild oats elsewhere. As far as I was concerned that was none of my business (not until he tried to make a move anyway… which he did, because c’mon guys he’s a 43 y/o man).
To move this story along, I’m going to give cliffsnotes that show that this was a mutual connection where time and energy were invested and regardless of titles, disappearing after 3.5 months is cray cray by any standards:
FaceTime’s when I was in Hawaii, as well as when he was in South Africa. Tokens of affection were exchanged from said trips. He also came over the same night he landed after 24 hrs+ of travel. And no, I did not request that.
Birthday celebrations, a very fancy dinner for me, a cute sushi & live event for him.
Convos about my anxieties, his anxieties, mental wellness, family, career, wanting kids and knowing we’d be older parents, the loss of a parent and grief, the ending of his marriage, the need for spiritual practice, communication styles etc etc.
Concerts with his cousin and his cousins significant other (whom I have stayed friends with because what a gift to have more kind women in my life!).
The meeting of a few close friends.
Many dates at restaurants, arcades, bars, and movies. We knew how to have fun.
Did I mention his 4th of July FaceTime where he sporadically introduced me to his sister and mother? Another woman would have made a big deal of this, but I did not. He’s a sagittarius moon. They do the most.
You get the picture.
One night after two months of seeing each other I bravely brought up an alignment check-in. I know that sounds like the “what are we” conversation, but I promise I was only interested in gaining clarity around his feelings for me (if you are confused two months in, it is not a good sign). He was very good at showing how he felt, but aside from compliments, expressing how much he liked me (or didn’t) was not his forte. And I think two months is AMPLE time to muster up the courage to say feelings (and let’s be fucking forreal, there is nothing wrong with the ‘what are we’ conversation, so no judgement). I also gave him an easy out, telling him that I was happy to give him space and fall back. To which he said no. “I don’t want space, we do not need space”, were his exact words.
Anyway, more dating is done. Consistently. Same cadence of conversation. Same enthusiasm in quality time. Except for physical touch. Which had slowed down to a drip. And was making me increasingly frustrated. Because celibacy did not mean we couldn’t be passionate in other ways. And sure, some of you might be thinking: Yari, pick a lane! But the lane had been agreed upon. We had been driving on it very smoothly from jump. So what gives?
I could go into the breakdown a best friend, who happens to be a therapist, shared… but I’m trying to wrap this story up, so let’s keep going.
By August we had entered month three, and I knew that I was skating on thin ice with myself. I was headed to the East Coast for three weeks, and felt it perfect timing. Space was being given regardless of wanting it or not. The night before I left he came over for dinner. We talked about his two year old nephew getting a new bicycle, and how emotional that made him since his late father wasn’t there to experience that. It was a vulnerable moment, and it made me like him more as a person. He held me the entire night and dropped me off at the airport in the am.
Two weeks into my trip I realized that the only one making an effort to stay connected was me. In my final voice note to Tripp I had shared how I missed him and couldn’t wait to see him (a first on my behalf as I never felt secure enough to share my lover girl feelings with him). He responded, but never acknowledged or reciprocated the sentiment. Which stung. But it pulled off a bandaid that should have been ripped weeks prior. That was the last time we spoke with each other.
I told ya’ll it was an underwhelming ending to an otherwise fun & open experience.
So what happened? Well there is option 1, which is that he got scared. He didn’t say this, but I saw it in his face when that alignment convo came up. Or there is option 2, which is that he was no longer interested in me. Ultimately I just wanted his honesty. I had been encouraging and kind with my words when we discussed our needs and wants. Had he told me he didn’t want to continue to see me, I would have accepted it without a problem. But the truth is that “people can only meet you as deeply as they have met themselves”, and it is much easier to cowardly fade into the background than to bravely say the hard thing that could potentially hurt someone else’s feelings (and force you to deal with your own).
And so that brings us to the present moment! It’s not that I haven’t been ghosted in the past, it’s that it had never happened after so much time spent together. And so in my quest to remain teachable, I created a survey asking folks about their ghosting habits, experiences, communication styles, family dynamics, societal demands and how those things ultimately collide in their dating lives. I am ecstatic to share what y’all had to say! The data is so interesting, and shows how layered folks are. For example, White respondents with anxious attachment styles were more distressed by ghosting experiences, feeling a stronger need for closure, yet this distress often didn’t translate into reluctance to ghost others when the situation was reversed. Spicy!
Part II loading…
