In Praise of Ghosting

I was supposed to have a lunch date today at a casual place with an amazing view, a restaurant made of shipping containers midway between the two of us on Treasure Island.  Alas, no treasure was to be found today in the shipping container restaurant for him or for me.

Mr. Oakland and I had been texting for more than a week, a lifetime in the online dating game.

He seemed interesting, raising a daughter in some mysterious East Bay locale with room for a dog, a cat, a horse, and a white house rabbit.  This last creature was the kicker for me:  I had a house bunny for a dozen years, my best friend in graduate school as well as during the early years of my marriage.  I would probably go out with any guy who has a house rabbit just so I could stroke his bunny.

Today, however, no bunny petting was meant to be.

This morning I texted to confirm that we were still on. 

He said yes. 

I asked if we could meet a little later than originally scheduled. 

He said no problem and named a time. 

I clicked the ‘thumbs up’ icon.

And that was the beginning of the end.

As it turns out, Mr. Oakland has a thing against emojis.  He asked if I would please refrain from using ‘auto text’ and write out my responses instead.

Mind you, we had already engaged in a lengthy text-dialogue over the past week during which I had indulged in nary a short-cut auto response.

Also, I’m a professor of English.  I teach composition.  I know how to write.

In addition to his assuming he could tell me how to express myself, there was the passive-aggressive style with which he framed the request.  “Do me a wee favor:  Plse [sic] answer in your own words.  I get a bit weirded out by auto response.  Thanks.”

Just to be sure, I reviewed our previous correspondence to verify that I hadn’t relied excessively on happy faces.  Nope.  The morning’s thumbs-up had been the first.

As it turns out, I get weirded out by people who tell me how to communicate and then presume I’m willing to follow their requests.

Nope.  Been there; done that.  The little “thanks” at the end?  That’s not being polite.  That’s leaping to the assumption that I will be compliant.

Having extricated myself from a twenty-year relationship with a person who thought he had the right to tell me what to do and how to do it, I’m not compliant anymore.

Which brings me to my title and the point of this story.

Once I ascertained that I had not, in fact, over-used the emoji option, and once I had polled three girlfriends to make sure I wasn’t over-reacting (one girlfriend thought I was, but she has sons so her perspective is skewed), and once I had triple-checked the heebie-jeebies in my gut to make sure that the sense of repulsion bordering on fear was for real, I cancelled the date.

“Bummer!  Sounds like we’re not a match.  Good luck finding what you’re looking for.”

His response?  “That seems awfully rigid, but suit yourself.”

In other words, his distaste for the use of a singular emoji is not a case of being rigid, but my refusal to be told how to communicate is unacceptable.  Also, passive aggression.

Good riddance and goodbye.

Which is what I indicated, metaphorically, by ghosting him after receiving his response.  The exchange had told me everything I needed to know without bothering with the fish tacos.

“Ghosting”—the ability to block a person from contact—allows people a privilege unavailable in real life.  It’s not possible to permanently avoid the annoying boy in your calculus class who keeps asking for a date, and it’s quite difficult to tell your drunken spouse to stop harassing you if you live in the same house.  I know; I tried.  But in virtual space one can, clearly and unequivocally, make someone get lost. 

I think, though I haven’t yet administered the survey, that this feature is especially valuable for women.  We are used to being told to smile and get along with others; to laugh at jokes that aren’t funny; and to acquiesce to requests that infringe on our identities and desires.  Being able to “ghost” means being able to set boundaries, to say “no” in such a way that the other person gets the message.

I’m sure some, like my girlfriend with the sons, would argue that my reaction to Mr. Oakland was intolerant; that people need to learn to deal with each other’s quibbles and quirks.  And to a certain extent, I agree.  No one is perfect, so yes, we do need to learn to accommodate each other.  But for me, after having spent most of my adult life compromising only too much of myself to try to make someone else happy, being able to decide when I want to compromise and when I don’t is part of living my own life.  And on occasion, two so far, ghosting is an effective means of establishing and maintaining my boundaries.

Speaking of manners, if I were a little more clever and a lot less polite, I would have punctuated my ghosting of Mr. Oakland with an emoji, the one of the smiling ghost waving goodbye, perhaps.