I just got sick and tired of guys dropping off the face of the earth for no reason. After seeing the guy who ghosted me getting off with two guys I lost it.
By: Alex in Chicago
Being gay and single can suck – particularly when you think you have something special going on with a guy and he ghosts you.
You may be wondering what that term means – when someone “ghosts” you. Well, in the context of dating, ghosting is when someone you are seeing essentially vanishes. They don’t return your phone calls, texts or emails. They just disappear forever.
I’ll tell you a little about myself and then share what happened. I’m a decent looking guy that recently turned 37.
Some people say I look a little bit like Justin Theroux and I can see that a little, depending upon how long my hair is. I work out every other day and am told I am handsome.
I live in Chicago in a part of the city called Edgewater. It’s not exactly a “gayborhood” but it certainly has a good sized LGBT population.
Let’s see what else? Hmm … I make a decent salary and am employed as an account executive for a software company.
So on to my story …
I’ve been mostly single for a while now. My last significant relationship lasted 2 years and ended because we were both looking for something more. Not an uncommon reason for gay relationships to end I supposed. We’re still friends and occasionally hookup, mostly out of familiarity.
And so a few months after the breakup, I decided to put myself out on the market.
I downloaded all of the popular dating aps, like OK Cupid, Tinder and if truth be told – even some of the hookup aps like Scruff and Grindr. “You have to really put yourself out there!” said all of my friends.
Here and there, I would set up dates with guys to see what might happen. There were a few promising ones along the way; like the hunky lawyer named Rick that worked for a major firm downtown.
But after going out on a few dates, he must have lost interest because I never heard from him again.
And then there was Pete – a guy who I met on Scruff who was simply adorable. The only problem was that after meeting three times, he disclosed to me that he was a part-time male escort (apparently I am not the only one this has happened to.)
No judgement here but that just didn’t work for me.
And so after about a year, I started adding up the number of serious dates I had went on as a way of gauging my progress.
In total, there were about 10 “new guys” I had met. None of them worked out, obviously.
The one thing they all had in common was how they ended. Basically, communication just stopped happening.
Some of it was because I lost interest and some of it was because they did. But all of them basically ghosted me in some form or another.
It happens, right? Yeah, it does but when a dude you really like pulls that ghosting crap, it can really mess with your mind.
If you have ever been ghosted, you know exactly what I mean. It sucks because they leave you holding a bag of questions. “Was it something I did? Am I fat? Do I look to old? Do I suck in bed or something?”
It’s so effing rude to do that to someone, you know? I mean what ever happened to just telling the person how you really feel and moving on? Why leave someone hanging like that?
Well, that’s exactly what happened to me by someone who I really fell for after meeting him on Tinder.
And I’m embarrassed to tell you that I confronted him in a public way months after it happened.
Keep reading …
Adam is the type of guy that turns heads whenever he goes by. He looks a lot like the actor Cam Gigandet – you know – icy blue eyes, muscular physique and a million dollar smile.
I can still remember having coffee with him outside at a local Starbucks during a warm summer day.
He wore a wife-beater and shorts – enough to show off a highly sculpted chest and biceps, replete with a hairy chest and tats covering his right bicep.
I’m not kidding when I tell you that women would literally trip over themselves as they walked their dogs. He is that good looking.
And yeah – a few of the neighborhood queens took note as well.
But what I liked about Adam that went beyond his handsome good looks. The real attraction was how stable he was – well – seemed to be.
He has a good job as a gymnastics teacher and owns his own condo. Not bad for a guy who is 35-years old and living in a big city like Chicago.
Adam also has a charming personality and is outgoing; things that I typically like in a guy.
I guess the last thing is that that the both of us seemed to share a lot of common interests – such as working out, a love for extra crispy sausage pizza and Star Trek movies. And believe it or not, we both were born at the same hospital – Northwestern.
So we dated one another for about three months. He would regularly overnight at my place and I at his. Sex was amazing – really. I typically never bottom but I did it for Adam because he made me feel so comfortable.
And let me tell you, Adam is a pretty thick guy if you know what I mean. It took a lot to ride on it but I did it as a way of demonstrating to him that he was special.
I’m embarrassed to say this but I even let him breed me a few times. I know … I know … stupid but just being honest. I’m just giving you an idea of how close we had become.
Or at least I thought we had.
So one Saturday morning, I sent a text to him that simply said, “Good morning babe!” Normally, I could expect a response within 15-minutes.
On this particular Saturday, nada. I didn’t think much of it at the time however. I figured he was tied up with something and would reply later.
Except he didn’t.
And so by late that Saturday night, I started to wonder if something was up. Was my iPhone working? Was his?
According to the display on the text history, the message I sent had been delivered. That evening I felt a little anxious and had a sick feeling in my stomach that our blossoming romance was over.
Ever get that? That knowing sense of dread that tells you there has been a change in the universe?
That next morning I woke up and momentarily forgot the events from the day before. It all came rushing back when I noticed the stuffed teddy bear sitting on my dresser.
Adam had won it for me at an event called “Out in the Park” – a themed “day for gays” at Six Flags Great America.
As sadness and anxiety started to build up inside of me, I reached for my phone on the nightstand.
Before allowing myself to look and see what might have come in, I remember thinking to myself:
“Maybe he sent me a text overnight? You’ve been wrong before about shit. Take a look and see if he messaged you.”
To my disappointment, there was nothing new from him. The only message that had come in was at 3 o’clock in the morning – a pic from some guy I had tricked with six months ago who was apparently looking to hookup again.
“What are you up to?” it read. Totally not what I wanted to see.
As I sat in the bed, I became aware of how lonely it felt. There had been several happy Sunday mornings when Adam and I woke up together in my bed, all too eager to get it on.
Because we were both “morning” people, it usually culminated with someone’s hose being drained of man milk.
Other memories started to pop into my mind as well, like how much he liked cuddling up while the cold wind howled outside.
I tortured myself trying to decide if I should send another text message. After a good 15 minutes of contemplation, I wrote the following:
“Adam – are you OK?”
Yeah, that probably sounds desperate but that’s what I texted.
And I got no reply that entire day. Zip, nada – nothing.
By Monday morning, I was kind of a mess. Like a fool, I left a message on his voicemail and asked him to give me a call. I got no response.
By mid-week, I was feeling depressed and a tinge worried. My friend Robert suggested that perhaps Adam had lost his phone and offered to use his cell to send Adam a text.
To my shock, Adam responded to him almost immediately and said, “I’m sorry, who is this?”
That’s when I knew I had been ghosted. My phone was working perfectly because other people had received and responded to messages I had sent.
And that Robert had gotten that message from Adam just confirmed my worst fears. I was devastated.
Trying to move on after being ghosted
Over the next several weeks, I tried to lick my wounds. After being summarily dumped without so much as a warning, I became aware of how I had allowed myself to really fall in love with Adam.
Maybe it was just wishful thinking? Maybe it was some ridiculous fantasy in my head?
But given all the indications, it seemed like we both had strong feelings for one another. He even told me that he was starting to fall for me when we were spooning during a DVD movie night.
And so in an effort to heal, I’d go out with friends for coffee and occasionally show up at someone’s house party.
Adding salt to my wounds were the occasional comments from acquaintances like: “Hey, where’s Adam?” and “What happened to the cute muscle jock you were dating.”
Half of the time, I simply told people I didn’t want to talk about it.
By the three month mark, I was feeling a lot stronger. Up until that point, I had avoided going to bars because I didn’t want to run into Adam.
You see, I knew the places he frequented based on conversations we had.
Slap me silly and call me stupid but one Sunday night, I decided to accept an invite from a buddy and joined him Jackhammer – a quasi-leather bar where staff go shirtless.
There’s also a downstairs area where some guys play.
Did I mention that I knew Adam sometimes went there? Umm – yeah, he did.
Confronting Adam the Ghost
I had probably put away three “Jack and Whiskey” tumblers and two shots of rumplemintz over the course of 2-hours. At some point, I was drunk enough to work up the nerve to head downstairs into the “pit”.
If you have ever been to something like this, you already know it is typically dark, dank and smells like poppers.
So there I am, stumbling around 20 guys who were getting their dirty on against the backdrop of dance music playing in the background. A grope here – a grope there – I don’t remember. I just recall wanting to get out of there because it was disgusting.
As I turned to leave, I saw him in the corner – Adam – making out with a guy on his right side while another guy was on his knees, blowing him like crazy.
I can still remember the both of them rubbing their hands all over his hairy chest while he stood there, propped up against a brick wall and loving every second of it. You would have thought he was a God being worshiped.
I don’t know how else to put it except to say – I lost it – I totally lost it. I just did.
“Do these two dumbasses know what an effing jerk you are? You are such a son of a bitch Adam! I can’t believe I shed one tear for you.
You are a sleazy scumbag. I should take a picture of you right now with my phone and post it on Facebook!”
Suddenly, you could hear a pin drop with the exception of the music. Adam looked stunned and extremely embarrassed.
He pushed the guys who were on him aside and buttoned up his jeans. A second later, he was in my face. “You are a jerk – you know that? I’m glad that I cut you off.
Enraged, I tried to lunge after him but I was too toasted. Instead, I ended up tripping over myself and landed face first in a puddle of I don’t know what (and don’t want to know). Somebody helped me up and made sure I was OK.
Everything else is blurry after that. I know that Adam had left the bar and I somehow made it home after someone called me a cab. I managed to lose my phone that night too as part of the drama.
The next day, my face was a little bruised. It hurt a little but not as much as the memory of the night before.
No, I wasn’t upset that I had seen him – I kind of half knew it was possible when I accepted the invite from my friend. Instead, I was angry that I had acted like such a fool and humiliated myself so badly.
Do I think it is a good idea to confront the person who ghosted you? Honestly – it’s probably not. If you decide to go for it, don’t do it the way I did – all boozed up and crazy. It just makes you feel worse. Take it from me, I know.
As for dating, I’m still not at a place where I’m emotionally ready (obviously). The wounds are still too fresh.
And Adam? He’s never once reached out. I doubt he ever will.
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