I will freely admit that I'm a coffee-holilc. I love coffee. My morning doesn't seem complete without a good cup of coffee in it. I like the taste, I love the ritual, I enjoy the habit. Have I quit before? I sure have. I missed the ritual, so I came back after a couple of months.
I am addicted to other things too. Sometimes it's cereal. Sometimes it's juice or chocolate. Often its ice cream. I just can't help myself. All that being said, right now . . . downstairs . . . there is a huge half-gallon container of my favorite ice cream . . . there is also a huge box of cereal. In the fridge, we have a big bottle of juice. What does this mean? It means I can control it.
I have a long history of controlling my addictions.
- Addicted to fattening foods as a high schooler? No problem, I became a vegan for five years.
- Addicted to French cigarettes after my year away as a foreign exchange student? No problem. I stopped.
- Addicted to dip after the Army? Again, too easy. I stopped.
I have a long history of stopping my addictions . . . or at least controling them.
This friend I'm thinking of can't seem to do this. They are addicted to "ghosting." I've written about this before, several times (HERE, HERE, HERE, and HERE), but I'm surprised... continually... that it is such an issue with this person. It's gotten to the point where they will reach out, then immediately ghost.
Over the years that I knew this person, I knew it was getting worse. The non-ghosting times kept getting shorter and shorter. I didn't think it would ever get this short . . . one text . . . but this is where we are.
The truth is . . . I don't think they can help themselves. This is the addict part. I think, like an alcoholic, they can't help but ghost now. They've done it so much and so often, it's the "default" position with them toward me now. I know from our past conversations that they regret ghosting me, but again, I don't think they can help it. It just happens, and they let it happen.
I wonder if in their head they are worried about my response, or about how it might look to others, . . .but regardless, I think that "feeling" is now tied directly to "ghosting." They feel that feeling that is associated with me, and they have to ghost. It's not an active choice; it's what they have to do because they've done it so much and so often.
Plus it's such a habit that I think I'm the person this person ghosts. It's just the roles we've inhabited. When I'm having a bad day and need lunch or coffee, and to talk writing or training . . . I call Julie. When I want golf and a laugh . . . I call Tommy. When I want a poptart with coffee . . . it's Christine, aka Dr. Data. When it's a bad day, . . . it's Big D.
For this person . . . I'm their go-to when they want to ghost someone.
I wish I had known this when we met. If I had known that I was going to be ghosted all the time, every time, for no reason . . . I never would have signed up for the friendship.
It's too bad too, they were a good friend to have, but with this side of their personality being the only thing I ever see, it's impossible to be friends anymore. Could you be friends with someone who reaches out, then disappears? Conversations or dialogue would be something along the lines of:
"Hey there! How are you?"
"Great, and you?"
-Silence-
"Hey? You still there?"
-Silence-
"You gone?"
-Silence-
"Why'd you ask if you weren't going to talk?"
-More silence-
"Hello?"
Impossible right? How can a friendship survive that? The next conversation is built on this? And the next and the next?
Why do I bring this up on a writing blog?
Easy. Writing is about character. Character, not plot, moves stories and makes them memorable. This is a HUGE character flaw that would make a very interesting character in a novel. Imagine the angst and challenge that the main character would have to navigate and contend with if this is the typical interaction our hero has with someone in the novel. I touched on this dynamic a bit in my novel Vapor Trail (HERE), but I think it would be an insanely interesting character to navigate in another novel.
And maybe that's what makes this person such an interesting character to me. I don't think they're a bad person. Quite the opposite. I think they're a good person with a terrible habit. A habit that has become so ingrained that they may not even recognize they're doing it anymore. Or perhaps they do recognize it, regret it, and still can't bring themselves to do anything differently.
That's a tragedy in its own right, isn't it? To want something . . . friendship, connection, companionship . . . but to be so trapped by your own behavior that you continually destroy the very thing you want.
As a writer, I find that fascinating.
As a friend, I find it heartbreaking.
And despite everything, despite the frustration, the disappointment, and the years of silence, I suppose I'll always leave a light on for this person. Not because I expect them to come back, or because I expect anything to be different if they do. But because I remember the person they were before the ghosting became the only part of them I ever got to see.
The door doesn't have to be wide open.
But I can leave the porch light on.
After all, some characters are worth remembering, even when you can no longer be part of their story.
Elizabeth, Lifer Betsy
Evershade, evershades , ever shade, ever shades, shades of Betsy
Elizabeth, Betsy
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