Ghastly

Ah “ghosting”, a phrase you’ll likely be familiar with if you’re even half my age bracket and not exclusively surrounded by the more pleasant examples of humanity. For those of you blessed be enough to not have experienced it first hand, or old enough to quaff at these hippidy hoppidy words, it’s simply – and rather brutally – the act of initiating potential romantic contact/conversation with someone, developing said contact to a decent degree and then fucking off without a word.

Now I know I know “But Basjohn, you love people fucking off without a word!” your innocent sparkly eyes glitter as you mumble such innocent words, but truth be told reader so dear, a word – a gentle timid and somewhat restrained with pretty lies word – before fucking off is actually quite appreciated once you’ve dedicated the 3% of your brain and heart that is yet to rot to knowing someone. Yet, it is a modern epidemic. A cruel attempt at kindness that leaves no one unscarred.

You know already this will somehow lead into my own romantic failings of course, the subtext is so blatant it could be an Акула.

It’s probably better you didn’t get that joke.

Indeed over the years I’ve experienced my share of ghosting. Never committed the atrocity myself (unless you would count running away from a stalker-level person pretending to be multiple people at once yet unaware of your disturbing research skills aka pin board of conspiracies that was in desperate need of filling), but having it even once is something I wish on no one. Simply telling the other person you “Don’t feel chemistry” or you “Don’t think it’s going to work out/go anywhere” are far far kinder ways than leaving a little soul to wonder what crime they may have commited. Hell, I was appreciative of a lass who straight out told me she was interested in someone else because the truth hurts a much cleaner cut I think.

Oh but yes yes, on to my personal complaints and moaning no? My first experience with ghosting was excellently avenged by dear (now dead) Dante. Promised to chat to me after a clearly failed first date (where I joked about her texting someone to rescue her, and it TURNS OUT SHE WAS ACTUALLY DOING THAT) and then nothingness. Even a “Not feeling it” would have been a kindness. So Dante found her online, used his disgustingly good talent with the opposite sex to enthral her and then stood her up on the date with a “This is for Jayde/Basjohn” message. I do wish I could at least TRY some necrotic rituals on his corpse, lovely lad, probably a better friend than I deserved.

Then we’ll skip about 57 failures and get closer to the present! The current me! The successful author who isn’t remotely sure about the successful part of that sentence but is certainly sure about the author bit! Recently I had 2 ghostings in a row. Consecutive ghostings being the sort of demoralizing stuff you rarely find outside of WW1 trenches or Candy Crush commercials (we have to eventually admit they are much the same thing).

Neither perfect souls, but perfection is far from what I seek anyhow (which is desperation and low-standards!). Out of respect I’ll leave some of the more negative and personal details of their lives to one’s imagination (so read what you will knowing I am actually holding back the bad stuff). First lass, smoker egh, I can deal even if it fucks up my health a little more than it already is, but intelligent! AND ALMOST A FAN! Actually emailed me by following the email trail “hidden” blatantly on here. An anime fan to boot, and a gamer! Potential seemed grand! She suggests meeting, I encourage said suggestion, advertising my super duper open at all times calendar, she is suddenly to too nervous, I say I can wait. Conversation continues for a week or so and then? SILENCE. Keeps me on FB. Keeps posting passive aggressive content about how she can’t find a guy, when I can’t find a reply. Awesome slow-motion let down!

But she liked geese. Geese are fucked up. You all know this. Stay away.

PART TWO! Just after started chatting to a lass with a deeply troubled history (but hell, my first love story is kinda the epitome of that so no one is going to top that any decade soon) but a sparkly hopeful future and compliments on how I try and make the most of life despite being a decrepid rotting husk of failed health. Finally meeting was suggested, I jumped at the chance and………she vanished for two weeks. On her return? Turns out she was meeting couples and signing up for group orgies and that kept her very very busy as one can imagine. I felt quite stupid for having concern but decided to try and reconcile and see if things could go anywhere…..until she vanished for……ever perhaps? I’d say two months of silence is about enough of a drought to call a ghosting.

And so my negative confidence wavers deeper ever more, brought on by what I consider one of the shittiest behaviours in modern society at large. People, srsly people, turn others down. You can do it gently. Vanishing without a word is zero-effort a dick move regardless of your genitalia.

As for even more depressing news, my health continues to dwindle in ways unknown (as always) to the medical community at large, my third novel is still getting rejection letters and I’ve been in dentures – sexy so sexy – dentures for the last six months to replace the teeth my condition quite literally murdered. I am fiddling with ideas for a fourth novel as I mentioned, but motivation is rather hard to come by when the only person to give my comprehensive (and positive) feedback on my third is rather dead themselves. My usually more lovely friends all finding themselves too busy to be arsed with reading the manuscript, as is the way of the world.