'Something's made your eyes go cold.'

On ghosting. Part 2 of 3 in the friendship series.

This is part two of a three-part series on friendship (which may actually turn into four, keep reading). Part 1 is here. Bear with me, as my thoughts are still completely messy and unformed about this. Also, again, I’m speaking primarily about female friendships here, but I assume they could apply to any kind.

In Part 1 of this series, I shared the story of Jill, my college and early-twenties best friend, who stopped talking to me abruptly and completely in the summer of 2008. Although that piece was about the largely unspoken regrets I have in my friendships (especially during my drinking days), it was also a way for me to process and try to make sense of one of the most painful friend experiences I’ve ever had. I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy, with friends, and in recovery rooms talking about romantic and familial relationships, but friendships, not so much. I mean, it’s been fifteen years, and I still have so much to say about Jill’s ghosting and far more questions than answers.

Based on your comments and email replies to that piece and a bunch of conversations I’ve had since, I’m not alone. But the specific part I’m most curious about now and what I want to talk about today is the phenomenon of ghosting. Of all the friendship endings I’ve experienced, the ghosting stories (three in total: two women, including Jill, and one man) are the only ones I’d classify as truly heartbreaking. The slow fade or drifting apart that happens in so many friendships can be a bummer, but I think we all accept that as more or less the natural course of things. Even the ones that end because of something worse, like a divorce, can totally suck, but they’re understandable. Ghosting, on the other hand, is just brutal. And yet it seems so common to have been on both sides: being the ghoster, and the ghostee. So what’s that about? Why is this such a thing when we all agree it’s so awful?

Let’s explore.