Relationship Responsibility: The Departure Lounge Between Ghosting and Goodbye

Ending a relationship ought to be fairly simple.

One person realizes he no longer wants to continue, tells the other person, everybody feels dreadful for a while, and eventually life moves on.

Human beings, naturally, have improved upon this system.

We now have ghosting, fading, vague uncertainty, mysterious scheduling problems, emotional half-departures and several other ways of leaving a relationship without having to endure the awkward moment of actually saying, I am leaving.

Welcome to the Relationship Departure Lounge.

All passengers are eventually going somewhere. The only question is whether anyone has bothered to announce the flight.

Gate One: Ghosting

Ghosting is the emergency exit of romantic departures.

One minute you are dating a man; the next, he has apparently been removed from the earth. No conversation, no explanation, no small ceremonial goodbye.

Just silence.

The strange thing about ghosting is how much work it leaves behind for the person who did not disappear. When somebody tells you a relationship is over, you may be hurt, but at least the sentence has arrived.

Ghosting delivers no sentence, so your imagination begins writing one.

Was it something you said? Did something happen? Is he angry? Is he frightened? Is he dead?

The last possibility usually survives approximately three hours before evidence appears that the deceased has recently liked a photograph from a rooftop bar.

Ah.

Alive after all.

Ghosting is wonderfully efficient for the person leaving because he avoids the uncomfortable part entirely. Unfortunately, the discomfort does not disappear.

It simply changes passengers.

Gate Two: The Flight Has Been Delayed Indefinitely

Pre-ghosting, or the slow fade, is more sophisticated.

He has not vanished.

Technically.

He is still somewhere in the building, but sightings have become rare. Dates that once appeared easily now require favorable weather, several calendars and perhaps permission from the moon.

He has been so busy. Next week looks better. Then next week develops complications previously unseen by modern scheduling.

Nothing has officially ended; it has merely become extremely difficult to begin anything.

This stage can continue for an impressive amount of time because every delay contains a little promise that the flight may still depart.

“Things should calm down soon.”

Marvelous.

Nobody knows when soon is, but luggage remains packed.

The relationship is slowly disappearing while retaining just enough pulse to prevent anyone from calling time of death. That is the great talent of the slow fade: one person gets to leave emotionally while the other is still waiting at the gate.

Gate Three: We Are Experiencing Some Uncertainty

Then we reach the man who does speak.

Sort of.

He tells you he is confused, has doubts, does not know what he wants, or feels that something has changed.

This is certainly more information than silence, and for that we may offer refreshments.

But doubt has an interesting habit of sounding temporary even when it has moved in permanently.

He is not saying the relationship is over.

He is merely standing beside it with his coat on.

You may begin having conversations about what is wrong, what could change, whether things might improve and whether perhaps he simply needs time, while his enthusiasm may already have taken an earlier flight.

This stage is emotionally peculiar because hope and disappointment are forced to share a seat.

He is still there, but increasingly only in the grammatical sense.

And yet, compared with ghosting, something important has happened: another person has finally been acknowledged. You are no longer expected to interpret smoke signals from a distant mountain.

There are words.

Not especially useful words, perhaps.

But words.

Gate Four: An Actual Goodbye

And then, at the far end of the terminal, we encounter a surprisingly exotic creature.

A person who ends the relationship.

Clearly.

He says that it is not working for him, or that he does not want to continue. He does not vanish, slowly evaporate or place you on hold while he explores his feelings until Christmas.

He simply tells you.

Nobody enjoys this gate, and there are no champagne upgrades. A breakup hurts whether it arrives beautifully or badly, and honesty does not magically turn disappointment into a wellness retreat.

But something very different happens when the truth is spoken plainly: the person being left is allowed to know where she stands.

That sounds remarkably basic.

Apparently it is now a luxury service.

The Interesting Part Is Who Carries the Discomfort

This is where relationship responsibility becomes less about good manners and more about something quietly revealing.

Ending a relationship honestly requires a person to tolerate an unpleasant moment. He may have to watch someone become sad, feel guilty, answer questions he would rather avoid, or briefly become the villain in somebody else’s evening.

Ghosting and fading offer an attractive alternative: avoid the scene.

Unfortunately, the scene does not disappear.

The sadness, uncertainty and embarrassment are simply handed to the other person, along with no instructions.

That is where selfishness and empathy quietly separate.

Not in whether someone wants to leave. People are allowed to leave.

The difference is in whether they can tolerate enough discomfort to let another human being understand that they have left.

And perhaps that is the curious thing about our Relationship Departure Lounge.

One man disappears through a side door, another keeps announcing delays, another stands at the gate wondering aloud whether he wants to travel at all, and finally one simply turns to you and says goodbye.

Same departure.

Completely different journey for the person left standing behind.