Spirited Away: The Trials & Tribulations of Breaking Up in the 21st Century

You could say that I started ghosting young. It was the summer before my senior year of high school, and I was dating “Sam,” a 16-year-old boy who preferred watching old episodes of Family Guy on DVD to spending time with me. He was cute, but we had nothing in common and I couldn’t deal with his affinity for wearing oversized Red Sox tees. (#Deep, I know.) Since my parents wouldn’t let me get a cell phone until I had my driver’s license, all communication went through my home phone — and I distinctly remember instructing my entire family that, should Sam give my house a ring, they were to tell him I wasn’t home. They abided, and Sam eventually got the hint and stopped calling. By the time school started back up, I was single again.

Fast forward 10 years, and ‘ghosting’ is now the hottest topic in dating. Inspired by the recent breakup of Oscar-winning ex-lovebirds Sean Penn and Charlize Theron (the latter is rumored to have ‘ghosted’ her former beau during this year’s Cannes Film Festival), articles and think-pieces about the sudden fadeout method have appeared everywhere from the New York Times to The Huffington Post to Jezebel. Last year, I wrote a piece for Elle.com dispelling the theory that ghosting is a breakup technique used solely by men. In fact, it’s actually a genderless phenomenon (Ms. Theron’s alleged situation is proof enough).

So, if ghosting isn’t new a new thing, and both men and women are doing it, why is it suddenly the talk of the town?

As with so many modern predicaments, we can blame technology. In the days before mobile devices and social media, it wasn’t so hard to convince yourself that the object of your affection wasn’t picking up or returning your calls because he or she really was too busy, or away on a last minute business trip, or at home for a grandparent’s funeral, or whatever. But now we know what everyone’s doing all the time. Which is terrific in terms of feeding curiosity (and procrastinating), but terrible for preserving mystery and, in many cases, preventing heartache.

What’s worse than waiting all day for a text message that never comes? Seeing on your Instagram feed that the dude who never texted you was drinking beers on the beach all day with his buddies. And how about when you suddenly stop hearing from the girl you spent the last month-or-so getting cozy with, cooking dinner and kissing at bars? Twenty years ago, you might convince yourself that she’d died. (Hey, it happens.) But now, her Facebook updates tell a very different story — one that no longer involves you.

Breakups are generally painful for at least one and often both parties involved. No one likes getting dumped, and unless something really, really bad happened to cause the split, it’s tough to do the dumping, as well. It’s why dumpers throughout history have done the deed in as far-removed ways as possible. Carrie Bradshaw’s breakup with Jack Berger on Sex and the City is a perfect example of this: Unable to muster up the guts to tell her in-person (or even on the phone), Berger scribbled his now-infamous memo — “I’m sorry I can’t don’t hate me” — on a yellow Post-It note before disappearing from his girlfriend’s life entirely.

Berger’s note to Carrie.

Nowadays Berger’s easy out seems downright considerate in comparison to the wordless breakups to which my generation’s been subjected: Sure, it was short, but it included A) an apology, and B) stood as some kind of acknowledgement that a relationship had once existed. As hard as it is to be turned down by someone you care about, the actual acknowledgment can make moving on easier. With ghosting, there’s no acknowledgment: Just a sinking feeling that you (or your relationship) weren’t even worthy of an explanation.

The biggest problem with ghosting? Social media. Good luck getting over your former S.O. if you’re plugged into any social media at all (which is everyone).

Ridding your life of an ex is no longer as simple as putting all physical momentos of the relationship into a shoebox and tossing it in the fireplace. My mother often regales me with stories about what dating was like when she was my age. “It was so much easier,” she says. “If a guy you broke up with wasn’t part of your group of friends, you basically just never saw or heard about him ever again. It was like he died.” Now, it’s more commonplace for your photo memories to be splashed all over the web, eternally there for your viewing pleasure whenever you’re in the mood to self-destruct.

Of course, you can always choose to destroy all that evidence, a la Britney Spears. The pop singer, who recently broke up with her boyfriend of eight months, Charlie Ebersol, was quick to delete every picture of the pair from her Instagram account — presumably in an effort to forge ahead with her life. (Meanwhile, Ebersol’s photos of him and Spears from as recent as six weeks ago are still very much not deleted.) Though we all have different ways of coping with loss and stress, partaking in the Eternal Sunshine erasure method makes a person run the risk of looking a bit too calculating. In the case of Spears and Ebersol — which, admittedly, we know very little about — who seems to be dealing with the breakup in a more mature, rational way? (My opinion: Ebersol.)

Then there’s MTV’s increasingly ridiculous reality series Catfish, which is rife with tales of bitter young people creating fake online profiles to make their exes jealous. Think: a twisted version of Cher Horowitz’s send-yourself-flowers ideology for the new age. On the show, it’s not uncommon for a guy or girl to discover that the person with whom they’ve been exchanging sweet nothings “long distance” for a year and a half is actually their former flame writing under a pen name. Technology can be awesome, but it can also be the perfect vehicle for crazy.

I’ve not been involved in this so called ‘catfish teasing’ — but I have been privy to a massive-scale ghosting/erasing extravaganza. Several summers ago (why does this sh-t so often happen in the summer?), I met “Tim” in a bar. He was visiting New York from the West Coast, but we hit it off immediately and ended up sustaining a somewhat informal relationship for several months. Things escalated when Tim invited me (and flew me) to his friend’s wedding halfway across the country, and we ended up spending a fun long weekend there together.

Shortly after I returned home, things got weird. Tim’s texts became few and far between, until eventually they stopped entirely, and I noticed that he’d deleted me from his Facebook friends. My messages to him were seen (thanks, ‘read receipts!’) and ignored. It was like nothing had ever happened between us, and, at the time, it was devastating.

To make matters way, way weirder, I noticed (via FB ‘stalking’) that just eight months later, Tim became engaged — and later, was married — to the sister of the bride whose wedding we’d attended together. It was totally bizarre, yes… and it also bummed me out about Tim and our failed relationship all over again. If it weren’t for social media, I probably never would have known about it.

We’re so eager to share our happiness with others in times of joy, but if those feelings end up being fleeting, social media can really extend the recovery period. But, no matter how many times it happens, there’s really no way of predicting how you’ll deal when the sh-t hits the fan. So do what you have to do: Block him. Delete her. Disable your accounts. Change your number. Take the photos off your wall — both the ones holding up your ceiling, and the one on your Facebook.

And keep in mind that, just like eating a Reese’s Cup (and as long as you aren’t hurting anyone else in the process), there’s really no wrong way to deal with a modern breakup. Except that catfishing scenario. That will always be wrong.