Ghosting

The Vanishing Act of the Emotionally Unready

Ghosting has the same sting as a cheap detective novel cliché: the character disappears into the fog, and the only thing left behind is the hollow echo of unanswered questions. No note, no explanation, just silence thick enough to choke on.

Let’s cut through the fog. Ghosting, when nothing catastrophic has happened, isn’t clever, mysterious, or self-protective. It’s emotional immaturity dressed up as avoidance. If you find yourself pulling this trick, sliding out the back door instead of sending a single line of honesty, you may want to stop and ask whether you’re even ready for the weight of real connection.

Of course, no one owes civility to cruelty. If someone disrespected you, crossed your boundaries, or showed their teeth in ways that made you feel unsafe, you walk. No explanations necessary. But if things were unfolding like a late-night jazz record, steady and untroubled, and you simply lost interest, or you’ve decided to pursue someone else, then you do owe something: the bare minimum of closure. A message. A single sentence. Something that acknowledges the other person’s humanity instead of leaving them to stumble in the dark.

It doesn’t take a dissertation. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, but I’m going in a different direction.” Or “I’m seeing someone else, and it’s getting serious, so I want to honor that.” These aren’t grand speeches. They’re small acts of respect. If that feels too difficult, then maybe you’re not ready for a relationship at all. Because if you can’t handle the lowest-stakes conversation, telling someone you won’t be in their future, how do you expect to survive the high-stakes talks? The ones about money, children, illness, loyalty, death?

The person you ghosted will, ideally, have enough grounding to realize your vanishing act isn’t about them, but about your inability to face discomfort. Still, it doesn’t erase the sting. Being left without a word is like having the streetlamp blow out in the middle of a monologue: sudden darkness swallowing the scene, leaving them squinting through the fog, hands groping for something solid, anything to make sense of the empty frame you left behind.

Ghosting isn’t mystery. It isn’t protection. It’s cowardice, plain and simple. And while life will always hand us hard exits, the way we leave says as much about us as the way we love.