Ghosting Protocol

The Ghosting Protocol: A Recipe for Digital Disappearance (Yields: One Very Confused Ex-Partner, Zero Apologies)

Ah, love—that beautiful, messy, emotionally taxing dance where two people pretend they’re not just two people sharing a Wi-Fi network. And then, inevitably, one of them decides to pull the plug like a cord on a bad Wi-Fi router. Enter The Ghosting Protocol, your one-stop shop for turning a human connection into a digital ghost story. This isn’t about kindness; it’s about strategic emotional sabotage with a side of existential dread. Think of it as the 21st-century equivalent of a 19th-century garden hermit—except instead of a thatched hut and a beard, you’re just a series of unread messages and a “Last Seen” timestamp that’s now a relic of a life you’ve conveniently forgotten.

The beauty of ghosting isn’t that you’re saving time or energy—it’s that you’re saving them from the awkwardness of your existence. By the time you vanish, they’ll be so deep in the abyss of “Why didn’t they just say something?” that they’ll forget you ever existed. And hey, if you’re feeling particularly cruel, you can even leave them with the illusion of closure by occasionally checking in—just enough to keep them hooked on the possibility of a response. After all, nothing says “I’m over you” like a slow fade into the digital ether.

The Ghosting Protocol

(Yields: One Relational Void, Zero Regrets)

Ingredients:

1 ex-partner, friend, or coworker (preferably someone who’s already emotionally invested)
Unlimited digital platforms (texting, social media, email—anything with a “Last Seen” feature)
A healthy dose of narcissism (for framing this as “self-care”)
The Zeigarnik Effect (naturally occurring; no need to buy)
Optional: A “Digital Trench” (see A Serving of Isolation for DIY instructions)

Instructions:

The Slow Fade Start by responding to messages with increasing delays. First, it’s 12 hours. Then it’s 24. Then it’s “I’ll get back to you when I remember you exist.” The goal is to train them into a state of anticipatory anxiety—where every notification is a potential lifeline, and every silence is a cliffhanger. Pro tip: If they ask, “Are you okay?” just reply, “I’m fine. You?” and disappear again. Classic.
The “Unsent” Message If you ever feel the tiniest urge to explain yourself—resist. Write the apology in your notes app, then delete it. The power isn’t in the words; it’s in the absence of them. Let them spin their wheels in the void. After all, you’re not a villain; you’re just a master of emotional white space.
The Mutual Sunder Once you’ve vanished, block them everywhere. Not for your safety—because let’s be honest, you’re not worried about them—but because you want them to hit a digital brick wall every time they try to reach you. The sound of their silence should be your soundtrack to a life well-lived.
The “New Leaf” Mirage Convince yourself this is self-care. “I don’t owe anyone my energy!” you’ll tell yourself, as you scroll past their posts like they’re just another algorithmic suggestion. After all, if you’re not the one doing the hurting, you’re not the one doing the wrong, right?

Note from the Chef:

Ghosting isn’t about love; it’s about control. You’re not leaving; you’re just upgrading to a more efficient version of yourself. The other person will either forget you or become a cautionary tale about “why you can’t trust people.” Either way, you win. And if they ever try to contact you again? Just remember: you’re not a ghost. You’re a ghost story they’ll never finish.

The best part of ghosting isn’t the disappearance—it’s the aftermath. Watching someone unravel over a series of unread messages is like being a puppeteer in a silent, slow-motion tragedy. You’re not cruel; you’re just efficient. And really, what’s more honest than a life lived in the shadows of someone else’s unresolved questions? After all, if you’re going to be a ghost, might as well be a glamorous one.