Being ghosted sucks.

Last weekend, at Frolicon, I had plans to play with two people on Friday night. I knew the first one didn’t ghost me — I knew something must have happened. I know her too well to think she would just not show up. And, lo and behold, she did eventually text me that night and explain why she couldn’t meet up with me.

The other person, though… well, we’d been talking on and off for a couple of weeks, and then on Thursday night we met up and decided to play Friday night instead. On Friday she showed up and we said hello, and then she told me she’d be “right back”.

Forty-five minutes later, I texted her to ask if everything was all right. The messages were marked as read, but I got no response.

About half an hour after that, I gave up and went back to my room. I texted her that if she still wanted to play, she should just come up, and it was okay if she woke me up.

That message remained unread all weekend. It’s been read now.

Look, if you’re not going to show up, just be an adult and tell the other person. Sure, it’ll be disappointing, but which is worse? Spending an entire evening waiting around and getting more and more sad and frustrated, or being told up front “hey, I don’t want to play with you, sorry”? If it’s me, I prefer the latter. I just want to know where I stand.

If this person wants to play, she can contact me next time. And I won’t ghost her.

Because I’m an adult.