I got ghosted by a guy I really like. Should I confront him?

Kai advises a trans reader who keeps on getting ghosted: your actions should be focused on providing yourself with closure instead of trying to squeeze it out of him

Ask Kai: Advice for the Apocalypse” is a column by Kai Cheng Thom to help you survive and thrive in a challenging world. Have a question? Email askkai@xtramagazine.com.

Dear Kai, 

I’m a 27-year-old trans feminine non-binary gal who just wants to find a boyfriend! I’ve dated lots of guys before, but it never seems to last very long. Things always start out hot and sexy, but then just fizzle. To be honest, the endings are rarely my choice, and that sucks. I recently met a boy on an app (story of my life) and we had a few dates. It really seemed to be going well and the sex was good—or at least I thought so—and he said he liked me and thought I was hot. He even told me to think of some good date ideas for us to go on! And then, with no warning whatsoever, HE GHOSTED ME. 

It just hurts so much to be ghosted. And it happens all the time. I freak out and start obsessively wondering what I’ve done wrong and wishing they would tell me. I can’t stop thinking about texting him—I just want some closure or to know what he’s feeling. Of course, texting him more when he’s obviously not into talking makes things worse. I’m also really mad. Like, how hard is it to just grow a pair and say you’re just not that into it? Part of me thinks that this keeps happening because I’m trans and most men just can’t handle that. But then there’s another part of me that thinks I’m making that up so I don’t have to face the awful truth, which is that maybe I’m just not very attractive as a partner. Maybe I’m good for a fuck and not much more. 

What should I do? How can I get this guy out of my head? Should I confront him and tell him how this makes me feel, or would that just be embarrassing myself? How can I make myself the kind of person people want to date long-term? I just want to stop feeling horrible and crazy about this. Love you lots, Kai.

HAUNTED

Dear HAUNTED,

At the risk of sounding overly familiar for an advice columnist who has never met you, when I read your letter, my first instinct was to offer you a great big hug (consensual hugs only!). The agony of being ghosted by someone you really felt a spark with is absolutely real. So is the fact that trans feminine folks are often treated as taboo sex objects, meaning that cis people will often view dating or hooking up with us as a thrilling sexual experiment, which leaves little room for our emotional needs—or our humanity. 

 

Perhaps that’s what is so painful about ghosting, HAUNTED—it’s an inherently dehumanizing experience, probably even more so for people who are dehumanized on a societal level. To be ghosted, rejected seemingly without reason, is to be left perpetually wondering: What might have been? What’s wrong with me? Can I trust my own sense of what is happening between us and other human beings? Can I trust other human beings at all? 

As a former couples’ counsellor, I believe that for many of us, ghosting awakens an instinctual part of us that is present from infancy. This is the part of us that understands closeness and connection with others as inextricably tied up with survival. An infant has no choice but to completely rely upon their attachment with caregivers in order to live, and although we become more independent with age, the thought that intimacy equals care equals life never completely goes away. In most adults, the focus of our attachment drive shifts from caregivers to peers and romantic partners, and any form of social shunning (such as ghosting) triggers the social animal brain’s worst fear: abandonment and death. 

So, HAUNTED, I think it is completely reasonable that your unfortunately repeated experience of ghosting would evoke feelings of terror, obsession, self-criticism and even rage. Each of these emotional experiences represents what would be an adaptive survival response in a simpler, more honest social world. Terror is the awareness that sudden abandonment could mean danger. Obsession and self-criticism might simply be the drive to find out what went wrong, to try to fix it, to identify what we are doing wrong so we can regain what was lost. And rage might be a call toward dignity from deep within—the knowledge that you do, in fact, deserve better.

The problem, of course, is that 6,000 years of social development have created a world that is overwhelmingly complex, contradictory and in many ways entirely nonsensical. Throw in the impacts of late-stage capitalism and colonization, and marginalized folks such as trans people, people of colour and neurodiverse folks are in many ways set up to experience confusion, pain and even trauma in worlds of sexuality and romance. Why? Because most marginalized people have by definition already experienced serious forms of social abandonment. 

The world tells us, sometimes from birth, that we are unworthy, unloveable and destined to die alone, and that because of our identities, there is nothing we can do about it. Being ghosted seems to prove that story, which is probably why it hurts so much. We are already primed to believe it. 

“There is nothing abnormal or unloveable about the way you are feeling. Your feelings make perfect sense.

So my first piece of advice for you, HAUNTED, is to be kind to the parts of you that are screaming in fear, rage and pain. They are only trying to save your life, as they have since the day you were born. There is nothing abnormal or unloveable about the way you are feeling. Your feelings make perfect sense. 

The question then becomes, what to do with these intense feelings? One place you could begin to explore is the fear that this ghosting means you are unattractive as a partner.  Sometimes it helps to make an actual, written list of all the qualities that you know make you great (or at least decent) partner material. Asking close friends for support with this can also be a good idea. Then expand on these qualities: What are specific examples of ways that you behave that bring your attractive qualities to life? This might reassure your brain that your attractiveness is actually real, and it can also give you something to expand upon and improve if that feels empowering. 

I should also mention, however, that I believe that when people suddenly ghost after explicitly professing positive feelings about the relationship, the ghosting is rarely about you. It’s more likely that they are ghosting for reasons that are internal to them—as you’ve already mentioned, when it comes to us trans fem(me)s, transmisogyny often plays a role in this. Yet even outside of systemic oppression, people have all kinds of reasons for ghosting. Often, they can be traced back to fear: fear of commitment and expectations, fear that intimacy will reveal their flaws, fear that relationships will disappoint and hurt them. In other words, the fears of people who ghost often mirror the fears of those who are ghosted. They are fears about their fundamental worthiness, fear of putting trust in others. This isn’t an excuse for ghosting, mind you, because it is generally hurtful and inconsiderate. Understanding the reasons behind it, however, might just take a little of the sting away.

In regards to confronting this person (I assume you mean by email or text, rather than an in-person confrontation which I do not recommend unless he has explicitly consented to it) well, it depends on what your goal is. Generally, ghosting can be read as a strong form of communication through noncommunication: it says that the person doing the ghosting doesn’t want to be in contact anymore. This means that a confrontation is unlikely to generate a renewed relationship. It’s also unlikely to generate a response that will give you the validation or closure you are looking for. 

This means that whatever you decide, your actions should be focused on providing yourself with closure instead of trying to squeeze it out of him. Maybe there’s something you want to say to this person about how he’s treated you; maybe you just want to say goodbye. Whatever you say should help you to let go and move on, rather than keeping you trapped in the spiral of longing. 

Crucially, when confronting someone who has ghosted us, we need to be able to own our feelings and express how we want to be treated without using cruel language or crossing the line into harassment. Generally, a single message that essentially says “I’m sad that you’re ghosting me. I’m finding it hurtful and I wish you had found another way to express your decision” is a good template. If they write back wanting to talk, then you can decide if you’d like to continue the conversation. If they don’t, it’s time to move on. 

A trick I’ve learned that’s helped me a lot is to write myself a letter from the perspective of the person who’s ghosted me. In this letter, I pretend that the ghost-er has magically become extremely emotionally intelligent, kind and communicative. In this letter, I make this imaginary version of the other person acknowledge all of my good qualities and then gently explain their decision to discontinue the relationship and say goodbye. Weird as it might sound, this often helps me to feel closure over relationships that have ended suddenly or painfully. Who knows? Maybe it will help you, too. 

Allow yourself to grieve your ghost, HAUNTED. Acknowledge the fear, insecurity, anger. Listen to them tell you what you need to feel loved, and then see if you can offer that love to yourself. A broken heart is like a house left in ruins by a careless guest: you can’t always make the people who leave it come back, and that pain is real, but you can pick up the pieces. You can put candles in the windows. You can make things beautiful again. It starts by coming home to yourself.


Kai Cheng Thom is no longer a registered or practicing mental health professional. The opinions expressed in this column are not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. All content in this column, including, but not limited to, all text, graphics, videos and images, is for general information purposes only. This column, its author, Xtra (including its parent and affiliated companies, as well as their directors, officers, employees, successors and assigns) and any guest authors are not responsible for the accuracy of the information contained in this column or the outcome of following any information provided directly or indirectly from it.

Kai Cheng Thom is a writer, performer, and social worker who divides her heart between Montreal and Toronto, unceded Indigenous territories. She is the author of the Lambda Award-nominated novel Fierce Femmes and Notorious Liars: A Dangerous Trans Girl's Confabulous Memoir (Metonymy Press), as well as the poetry collection a place called No Homeland (Arsenal Pulp Press). Her latest book, Falling Back in Love with Being Human, a collection of letters and poetry, is out now from Penguin Random House Canada.