Ghosted! Anonymous

Hey sunshine….Good morning. – Amit texted, even before his eyes agreed to open completely.
…..
He waited. The last three weeks had been amazing. After years and years of swiping right and sleeping around and jumping from one affair into another. Sometimes wading through, sometimes sneaking out of, sometimes quietly disappearing and sometimes reluctantly wiggling out of romantic alliances, he had finally found the one.
Amit made another attempt at opening his eyes after a full five minutes and this time pushed himself out of those warm silky covers and checked his phone. Hm. No reply still.
That was strange. Well strang-ish. The last 21 days, Natasha had replied within seconds. For every flirtatious text, he got an even more titillating response. Every. Single. Time.
He checked her status. She was online.
Hmm. This had never happened to him before. He was usually at the giving end of the “online but not really” attitude.
The blue ticks appeared.
Somewhere inside his chest cavity, a little emotion did a tiny summersault.
He didn’t understand this bit about himself. This woman, Natasha, had made him experience these insanely annoying “feelings” that he had very conveniently boxed in and buried someplace deep inside after his first heartbreak in college.
Something about her, something he couldn’t place his finger on, it wasn’t the looks. He had dated sexier, hotter women, it wasn’t her wit, he had been in wittier company. It wasn’t even her intellect. She was undoubtedly one of the smartest women he had been with. “One of the” being the key phrase.
Yes…Amit was that kind of a guy. His 20s and early 30s had been filled with interesting affair after affair. Some even called him a Playboy. But his humble, simple looks and origins had not let the label stick. After all, he was polite. And well mannered and hard working. Just that getting in and out of romantic adventures had become his thing. It gave him a rush…to pursue someone and score a date. And it got boring and sticky and annoying too fast. And then his heart wandered and his mind strayed and he would lose interest and move on to the next interesting face and mind.
But not Natasha. It had been only 21 days but he could easily call them the best 21 of his adult life.
His phone buzzed. That emotion summersaulted again in the chest cavity as he anticipated an apology and something naughty.

But it wasn’t Natasha. The blue ticks and the online status stayed put. It was his boss. Asking him to come in early for a meeting.
Disappointed, Amit got out of bed, looked at his stubble in the mirror, checked the five gray hair that adamantly stay put on his head and went on to get ready.
Natasha didn’t leave his mind. He kept checking the phone in between his morning routine and decided to text her again in an hour. Maybe she had dozed off. Mornings weren’t her thing anyways. She only woke up to reply to his texts before office. Or so she had said.
While having his poha and tea, he did something he hadn’t done in a very very long time, atleast not sober. He double texted.
Um…you alright beautiful – he typed…then deleted
Hey sleeping beauty, wake up, it’s a Monday – he typed again and deleted
Hey Nats, all ok?
He typed and this time he pressed send before his thumb could do more damage.
He tried to distract himself with news as he waited for a reply again.
The blue ticks appeared. But no reply.

As he set out for office on his bike, his mind kept going around in loops. Analysing every bit of conversation the last night.
It had been fun. They had gone to watch a movie and walked around after having ice-cream. He had asked her over to his place but like before, she replied “not yet”.
As he dropped her in his car, they kissed. Her touch made his spine quiver. Their kisses were gentle, thirsty, yet slow and precious.
This wasn’t his usual style. If he couldn’t sleep with a date after three dates, he’d move on. He wasn’t around in the business for love and all that crap. To him, romance was about hormones.
She had pecked him on the forehead and gotten out. He kept looking at her gorgeous receding back and long hair till it disappeared behind the apartment gate.
Think as much as he did, he could not put a finger on a conversation that had been dicey yesterday. It was the usual. Current affairs, office stories, funny videos, food and feelings.
No arguments, nothing controversial.
He reached office and met his boss. As the meeting progressed his mind and eyes kept going back to the phone that hadn’t buzzed.
His boss made a couple of comments on his distracted attitude but Amit let it go. He was distracted. And he was more distracted because nothing like this had ever happened to him.

His mind and heart were rock solid when it came to no response. After all, that’s how he had gotten out of most of his affairs. By disappearing. Specially the last one.
Swati had been an amazing partner to fool around with till her mom moved in to her place and then all she could talk about was marriage.
Amit hated the M word. And so he stopped replying one day. Just like that..never took her calls and just stopped reading her pleading texts. She tried to get him at office lunch once and he cold shouldered her. Not responding to her questions. Just shrugging her tears away.
And that did it. Just like that Swati disappeared and in a month, came Natasha.
Hassle free, M word free, L word free. Just conversations and hanging out and those kisses.
Amit waited for lunch break and dialled Natasha’s number. She cut the call. He sent a couple of desperate texts asking her what had happened. And if they could meet up.
Blue ticks and no replies. Again.
Amit’s dilemma turned to sadness and then anger. In the week that went by, he repeated every scene and conversation with Natasha in his head a hundred times to figure out what could have gone bad.

He also went and waited outside her apartment gate debating whether to give in to his desperation and face her or just let it go.
He saw her. Walking in and out. Going about her work as usual. Going to her library and exchanging books, going for coffee and shopping with her friends.
Nothing seemed off. It seemed as if their time together hadn’t existed.
Amit started to slack at work and found himself scrolling senseless reels and memes on Instagram to stay distracted and get through the day while keeping his self respect intact and not dialling or texting Natasha.
He felt a deep void within and it only carved deeper every time his mind threw back a shared memory of a joke or a video or the smell of her perfume or the hot chocolate she cherished.
His friends asked him to get into therapy. His boss also noticed his performance dip.
One Saturday evening, he went to her favourite coffee shop and sat there, in the hope that he would have the courage to face her today.
It was evening and she should be getting off work.

He waited. And waited. And suddenly, just like that Natasha walked in. But this time, she walked in with a familiar face.
A smiling face.
Amit coughed on his coffee as he saw Swati and Natasha grab a table.
Suddenly things fell into place.
Natasha and Swati also saw Amit. Red faced. And wide eyed. And they smiled at him and each other as they went back to their orders.
A couple of spiced hot chocolates please.
Natasha was what the young world today called a serial Ghoster for hire. A profession created by the boom in the complex dating world.
Years ago she had been left damaged by a guy who had ghosted her and since then she had been running a dark web site called “Ghosted Anonymous”.
Here she would get stories of broken hearted women who had put too much emotion, too much care, too much thought into a guy found on a dating app and left to question their self worth forever.
She had studied the patterns that ghosting men would follow. She had even educated herself with the psychology of such men and studied the behaviour of several men who were written about on the forum.
And after a year of research, she had figured out a rock solid technique to get any guy interested and invested in her.
She would study her subject for months before the attack. What they liked, what they pursued, what they did not like, what scared them, what annoyed them, what intrigued them. And she would design and adapt to a character that they were undoubtedly going to fall for.

And then she would do this. Give them a taste of their own medicine. Let them feel the hurt, the questions, the self doubt, the desperation and the disrespect.

She hadn’t fallen in love or gotten close to any one since this venture began. Ghosted Anonymous became the purpose of her life. Her sole aim to correct the wrongs of a society that was ruthless to those who cared. And she had been successful.
As far as she measured success. She would write a detailed response to the aggrieved women once the revenge was taken and send pictures of the desperate texts and call logs with a very satisfying retelling of the suffering of the guys. And she inadvertently always got a note back saying it had helped the women heal.
Swati was one such sad visitor of her site and Natasha decided to take her case. When Natasha sent Swati the snap of Amit’s texts and call logs, Swati felt a closure she had not expected she would find. And the two women decided to meet up over the second thing they had in common besides their trauma. Spiced hot chocolate.
Swati and Natasha walked out of the café as Amit still sat there. Seeing his entire life and choices and actions reel though his mind. Feeling terrible.