Forward: I struggled to write this one. I wanted so badly to take an unbiased stance on this matter because I really do see this as an “us problem,” but I can’t hide my bias. Apologies for that.
Also, I worried about the ramifications of calling something like this out, lest I create a kind of paranoia for the people who know me. A la, Is he talking about me? Know this: I’m committed to expressing my most transparent self, here, and in the meatspace.
~Damon
The other day I messaged a friend. He didn’t reply immediately, which is kinda status quo for friends lately, but this was the third message I’d sent him over several days.
The word ghosted came to mind, and I wondered if I was being needy.
☞ For the record, this isn’t one particular friend. It’s a kind of avatar. This has happened between myself and many people across various parts of my life.
As someone who spends more time thinking about this middle passage of life, I know the importance of connection with community and friends. In fact, I just published a piece on the value of friendship last month. Expect more from me on that subject.
So since I’m a self-ascribed expert on middle life and connection, it stands to reason that could handle a little ghosting without pacing the floor. But I’m also a human being.
Not wanting to be the overbearing friend, I dropped it. I mean I dropped my efforts to connect, but the desire to connect didn’t go away. Worse yet, the story in my head grew much darker.
Decidedly not a victim, I recently started doing something about these events, something forbidden. I started asking tough questions like, “Hey, what’s happened?”
From these uncomfortable conversations, I’ve learned a few things about myself and anyone who can identify with this feeling of being ghosted.
We’re not neurotic because we want people to acknowledge they see us.
We needn’t ask a question to warrant a response.
It’s seldom us. (The problem is usually them.)
Across the smattering of cases I’ve investigated, I’ve found one factor more concerning than the rest: The other person is in pain or suffering. It’s not all or even most of them, but…
🆀: How much suffering are we wise to accept?
In such cases, ironically, we both suffer on either side of this icey coin. It’s me pacing the floor trying to read tea leaves, and them isolated in some way.
This. Is all so concerning to me.
Yes, as a coach, but more as a human being.
Sometimes when this ghosting thing happens I tell myself, “Damon, this is just dudes bein’ dudes. Be cool, maaan.”
But women do the very same thing. I know because my wife, Cristina, laments the same unrequited love. It seems to be a fact that people of all genders stop replying to messages for no obvious reasons.
We’re left to wonder in the silence. And in that space of wondering, without proper intel, the mind gets up to some serious nonsense.
“I must’ve said something offensive, maybe on social media.”
“Maybe I’m being annoying.”
“They just don’t know how to tell me they don’t like me anymore.”
It’s because we know from experience that this is where the story often ends. People simply stop communicating for any number of unsurfaced reasons. Perhaps, because confrontation is hard?
Nobody trains children on healthy conflict resolution, not seriously. So many of us avoid it when it arises. And when one is on the other side of a ghosting, this is what we fear most.
They’re done with me.
To make matters worse, we say nothing. We’re not trained to properly confront another human without inciting a fight, and we’re also scared. Plus, we don’t want to seem clingy.
What’s also true is that we’ve all been on the other side of the overbearing friend.
Once–and in this case time I am talking about a real person–I was friends with someone who would criticize me about my text replies and other messages. It was either the speed or the ardor with which I replied.
Whatever I was doing or not doing, it was not good enough, and all her feelings of anxiety were my fault.
This was someone with a history of being abused. It’s a bit more complicated than I’ll go into, but the short version is that I had to walk away. Rest assured, it did not end with me not returning messages.
But I don’t believe this is what’s going on for me. I don’t believe I’m being the finger-wagging voice of unrealistic friendship expectations. I also don’t believe I know the standards for replying.
🆀: How many days or messages is one allowed to ignore before it’s considered rude?
Just last week a good friend texted me. When I didn’t reply after an hour, he sent me an emoji of a cricket.
I mean… How dare he.
My best sense is that anything more than two messages sent (on separate days), with three days since the last one, means something is off. (Disagree? Please share in the comments.)
What’s “off,” is anyone’s guess, and what to do about isn’t obvious. There are too many variables to make a rule, but to this writer, some kind of acknowledgment is warranted.
It looks like this, “Sorry about the delayed reply…” and that’s good enough.
My loved ones don’t have to explain themselves to me. I’m always grateful for the gesture, but it’s not something I demand. Acknowledgment is enough.
Again, I don’t know what the rules are. I do, however, know that the stories we’re telling ourselves are unhelpful and likely untrue. Our desire to be treated a certain way is not the problem.
Let me repeat. We’re not damaged just because we want people to acknowledge they see us. It’s not us. It’s them. And this point matters to me.
As I’ve already mentioned, there’s another side to this coin.
Since engaging in dangerous [read: diplomatically confrontational] conversations about why this is happening, I’ve noticed one interesting theme. This is from what people have been willing to report.
When we don’t have good news, we tend to hide from the world. Apparently, it’s acceptable to have bad news once in a while. That is allowed, but the very next conversation needs to be a story of triumph or some of us go into hiding.
When we don’t have good news for the umpteenth time in a row, and folks reach out, especially those who might see through us, we hedge time. Then time gets away because life doesn’t shift that quickly, and soon the pot we slid to the back burner is nowhere to be seen.
The other possibility is that [newsflash] we’re so overburdened for our attention.
What’s ubiquitous for many of us is firefighting, not actual fires, but all the notifications. It’s digital wack-a-mole on our pocket screens, a game we’ll never beat. And it’s hardly as satisfying as the metaphor I just used. At least in wack-a-mole, one gets to hammer that little fucker a few times.
This modern version is less satisfying, and it never. Ever. Ends.
Heck. This Substack might be a mole for you right now. If you’re reading this with a feeling of triumphant execution because you’re near the end of the task, you get me. (Side note: Thanks for making the time, devoted reader.)
Pardon the interruption, but if you find something about what you’ve read here valuable for any reason, I invite you to share it with someone else.
In our world of little red dots, every notification feels like another thing we just don’t have enough time for, despite the dopamine hits we feel by clearing them. And the longer we wait to handle them, the more mountainous it all feels.
It’s like this: I can’t reply to Damon because there is just too much to share, and I’m just so busy… [clearing red dots]
Look. I get it. I have red dots too.
I also get a little shot of dopamine with each dot I slay, and I like it. I mean, my challenges with addiction have always been about more than booze and blow. (I can make anything pleasurable a problem.)
What I know about myself is that this busyness that feels productive is usually just mismanagement of my priorities.
Especially in a world where we each have time to check Instagram in the toilet, in the supermarket line, and when others excuse themselves from dinner to use the restroom.
Or worse? When they’re sitting right next to us doing the same thing with their phone.
It’s not so much busy as it is distracted, overwhelmed, and addicted (to busyness). We’re not too busy for the people we love. We’re just not making them a priority.
In the end, we each suffer from this crap, ghost and ghosted.
When we’re in that place of darkness for any reason, where it seems like we have nothing triumphant to share, that’s the very time we most need to connect with someone else.
But that’s my take.
🆀: What’s your experience with this?
What I wish I’d spoken to more in the piece is something that keeps coming up in conversations, both on and off Substack, about understood asynchronous nature of all texting platforms.
This asynchronous quality is a lawless space, which is how we generally want it (I think).
But that fact of lawlessness also pushes more work onto each unique relationship. In the cases in thinking about, it only reinforces my concerns for both parties in a world where most of us are not trained to confront discomfort.
We take our feelings and go be alone with them.
As such, we’re asking a lot of ourselves on this front. The solutions is more dialogue.
I don’t have a policy except I think that the policy ought to be that we are responsible for our expectations of others.
If you want to have a text reply agreement with me then make one. Or make a clear request in your text for me to answer by a particular time. Is this insane?!? Probably.
But most expectation leads to resentment. And so for me it’s on me if the way I communicate w someone doesn’t work for me. It’s not on them. Even if it is them.
I had this with one friend . They would say they wants to talk. I would try to set up a call and get no response. And so I talked to them. I said I love you. I’m always here if you want to talk. But I won’t chase you down for calls anymore.
We don’t talk anymore. But I also don’t resent them anymore. Because I made a clear agreement or set a boundary with them.
For me when I don’t respond there can be a lot of reasons why. But I do try to get back to people and I feel bad when I don’t.
I’m better at tracking some mediums than other. For example I almost always respond to emails but slowly. I’m most likely to forget or miss messages on linked in or Facebook.
I generally reply to texts quickly but I’m also apt to forget them because I can’t save them to return to later.
So it’s a mix. It’s why for my most important relationships. I schedule regular calls. This is the best way for me to stay connected.
So I see your point but I also wish we just had clearer agreements with what the commitment is. I think it would save us so much yeet reading.