No, You’re Not Too Sensitive — Being Ghosted Is Harmful to Our Mental Health
So what do we do about it…?
He texted you every morning and called you every night. Your days were bookended with his loving attention. Your nervous system was regulating in the presence of his open communication and emotional availability. And then one day, the texts and phone calls stopped — and when you reached out to check on him, he didn’t answer. You never heard from him again.
You took her out to dinner where it appeared she had a great time. She was shy, but sweet, and when you said you’d love to see her again, she said she’d like that, too. She let you kiss her on the cheek, and even looked back to wave before she got into her car and drove away. But when you texted later that night to reaffirm what a great time you’d had, she didn’t answer. You called her the next day and left an enthusiastic voicemail that she never answered.
You’ve never dated a man who was so excited to explore a relationship. You didn’t even know those kinds of men existed, after a lifetime of dating men who only wanted casual sex. He talked about marriage on the first date. By the second, he was sharing his dreams of the holidays in your future, the two of you raising his kids together in a picture of domestic bliss. You were so drunk on his passion and commitment that you jumped into bed with him and spent two weekends together in what felt like a sexual fugue state. Days later, he broke up with you, claiming he wasn’t actually looking for anything serious. He reiterated the same promise he’d been making from the start: that he would remain a supportive friend. Then he disappeared from your life.
If you’ve dated at all in the past decade, you probably have experienced something like this. Or at the very least, you know the term for this type of behavior: ghosting.
And as accurate as the term is — describing someone abruptly disappearing from your life like a ghost — I feel that it falls short. It fails to communicate the cruelty of this kind of behavior, or the effect it has on the recipient. In fact, I find that the term carries a moral ambiguity that I find alarming, as if this behavior isn’t problematic.
It’s true that context matters here. Ghosting someone after messaging them a few times via a dating app is very different than ghosting someone after sex. However, do the former set of circumstances make ghosting more socially acceptable? Should it?
A recent survey indicates that around 45% of respondents ghosted someone (details unknown) because they didn’t feel invested enough to continue interacting — and men, in particular, seemed to feel this way.
Let’s take the most optimistic stance possible and assume that those who felt this way weren’t “invested” because they hadn’t met yet. Perhaps these are the folks who are ghosting each other after exchanging a few messages via dating apps.
Is it okay to disappear on someone you’ve messaged a few times? Do you owe them a “sorry, I’m not feeling a vibe here” note?
From what I have witnessed in the dating world, I can tell that it is, indeed, socially acceptable to disappear from a conversation. It happens regularly.
But I find that incredibly troubling. Wouldn’t you say “excuse me” to a stranger you bumped into at the grocery store? Wouldn’t you say “thank you” to the lady who held the door open for you at the coffee shop when your hands were full? So why do people you’ve never met before and probably won’t meet again deserve more respect than someone you briefly considered dating?
And if we’re going to talk about dating and sex like “investments,” turning potential partners into commodities who deserve to be thrown away without explanation because someone decided they “weren’t invested enough” to make the effort, what about the person who was ghosted? What about the time and energy they just invested, getting to know the person who ghosted them? What about that investment?
Why is it only the person doing the ghosting is the one who gets to decide what the worthy investments are?
As you can probably tell, I’m not keen on ghosting — not even when you’ve only exchanged a few DMs on a dating app. In most circumstances, I think it’s incredibly cruel and dehumanizing.
Yes, I said “in most circumstances.” That’s because the term ghosting covers a lot of ground. On a rare occasion, for instance, someone might drop out of contact because they just lost their job, experienced a death in the family, or had some other urgent crisis to deal with and they are too upset to reach out, or feel uncomfortable leaning on a new love interest during such a tumultuous time.
And sometimes, ghosting happens because it’s the safest option. In fact, there are some statistics floating around on the internet that suggest women ghost men far more than men ghost women. But can you guess why? As Lea Rose Emery wrote in Bustle:
“…[I]f we feel awkward about politely refusing someone who harasses us for our number in a bar, it’s a lot more complicated when it comes to telling someone we’ve gone out with a few times that we’re no longer interested. We feel guilty that this person has invested energy, we worry that we’ve wasted their time — not to mention the fact that plenty of women are met with aggression or verbal abuse for politely refusing a man.”
While I’m all for direct communication in relationships, most men I have encountered have responded to a polite “I don’t think this is right for me” with anger, aggression, and sometimes downright violence. Though I’ve never ghosted a man, I’ve certainly learned from experience that it is a far safer choice.
And what about the man who ghosts you after sex? Please be aware that I chose that pronoun deliberately because surveys indicate that men are more likely to ghost after sex than women.
Remember that optimistic scenario we ran through, assuming that most people who didn’t think they were invested enough to respond to someone perhaps didn’t feel invested because they hadn’t even met yet? Like all women, I know from experience that you can sleep with a man for months and he still might consider himself “not invested.” And it’s still socially acceptable for him to ghost a woman after sex in any number of ways.
The last man I dated, who spent all of our courtship talking about getting married and building a family together, insisting I was the love of his life, began to withdraw after sex. Suddenly, he seemed to have very little interest in me. When I asked what was going on, he said he wouldn’t have time to talk for a while — for how long, he did not know.
Had I accepted that, he would have performed the “slow ghosting” that many women are familiar with: taking longer and longer to respond to my messages and eventually not responding at all. However, I knew exactly what game he was playing and I felt I deserved the dignity of a face-to-face breakup. He agreed to a short conversation and sure enough, broke up with me, insisting that he would come through on his promise to remain friends.
And then he was gone.
Should you reach out to someone who has ghosted you? I hear this question everywhere — between girlfriends and even on social media.
Interestingly, I only ever hear the same answer: yes. Yes, you should reach out and insist on a conversation. Yes, you should share your feelings even if a conversation is not an option. Yes, you should take back your power and at least speak your mind so you can find some sense of closure.
Am I the only one who thinks this is a waste of time?
In a situation where someone was ghosted during a round of messaging on a dating app, what’s the point? The ghostee absolutely deserved the dignity of the ghoster simply saying, “I’m no longer interested in continuing this conversation.” But in our culture, standing up for your dignity will likely get you cast as a desperate loser — and if you’re a woman, much worse.
Sadly, I think most people would face the same outcome after reaching out to someone who ghosted them after a date or two. But at that point, it’s certainly fair to leave one more text message or voicemail pointing out that you deserved to have the person communicate their lack of continued interest and that you hope they will give the next person they date a little more courtesy than they gave you.
And after sex? Here’s where it gets extra complicated. Hell yes, you have a right to have a conversation ending things after sex. And if a conversation isn’t available to you, a) that person is not mature enough to be engaging in sexual relationships with other people and b) you absolutely have the right to reach out in an email or other form of communication to express your hurt and anger at being treated so cruelly.
But the problem is: Someone who ghosts you after sex really doesn’t care. When things have gone that far and a person literally can’t muster up the energy to look you in the eye and end things, that is all the evidence you need that they don’t see you as a human being.
I know this because I took everyone’s advice. Six months after the breakup, I reached out. I sent him a letter in which I shared my anger and deep pain at his behavior, and even confessed that I still loved him and missed him. He never answered.
I later texted him, asking him if he was really going to keep ignoring me. He finally answered, but was curt and impatient, clearly annoyed that I had reached out. He insisted we could only communicate via email from that point on — no texts allowed — and then sent multiple, rambling emails to me detailing how hard his life was, and what an awful person he thought I was.
He didn’t express even a whisper of compassion or contrition, and when he told me he did not love me and his words became more and more cruel with each exchange, I wished him well and told him I was no longer able to participate in the conversation.
When it was over, I felt no sense of closure or empowerment, as everyone had promised I would. I felt empty and more heartbroken than ever.
Over time, I’ve come to realize that there is no escaping ghosting. Not in a patriarchal culture like ours. Dominance hierarchies exist to diminish our humanity, and as members of these cultures, we will continually be conditioned to exert that kind of cruelty on others in any number of ways — including ghosting.
If you think that’s too strong a statement, that ghosting isn’t so bad, I challenge you to take a closer look. More and more mental health professionals are speaking out about the negative impact of ghosting.
Stacey Diane Aranez Litnam, Ph.D., a licensed professional clinical counselor says, “Being ghosted can have deleterious impacts on our mental health.” She says it threatens our sense of self-worth and makes it hard for a person to believe that they deserve love and connection.
Sex therapist Rufus Tony Spann, Ph.D. adds, “If people are ghosted enough, they may also become numb to abandonment. …This can lead to trauma and other severe emotions like depression or anxiety.”
As someone who has been ghosted multiple times, I can say with absolute certainty that this is true. The mental health impacts of being ghosted — especially after sex — are devastating and can do permanent damage.
Because here’s the truth about the term ghosting: It’s less about a person disappearing like a ghost and more about the consequences of their actions for the other person. Being treated this way, like you’re not even worth a goodbye, makes a ghost out of you.
© Y.L. Wolfe 2024
Y.L. Wolfe is a gender-curious, solosexual, perimenopausal, childless crone-in-training, exploring these experiences through writing, photography, and art. You can find more of her work at yaelwolfe.com. If you love her writing, leave her a tip over at Ko-fi.
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