here's how not to get ghosted 👻

it's spooky dating season 🎃

My first boyfriend ghosted me.

We didn’t have a term for it back in the early aughts, but it was ghosting just the same. One day we were dating, and the next he decided not to return my calls. This went on for weeks until I was able to track him down at his work – the same comedy club where we met in New York’s West Village – and confront him after not hearing from him for an entire week. His responses were vague. 

“I’m not happy,” he said.

“I don’t know” was his only other response.

“What does ‘I don't know’ mean?” I asked. 

“I don’t know,” he said in a conversation equivalent to pounding the bottom of a ketchup bottle to get the last remnants out. And then we were done. Just like that. Soon after we met at Starbucks so I could return his belongings in a trash bag and cry all the way home on the subway. And then I didn’t stop crying. I cried whenever I ate, I cried whenever I showered, and I cried whenever I tried to sleep, and then I moved home to Toronto a month later because I wanted …