Dodge, Duck, Dip, and Dive: Ghosting On The Gay Apps Is Epidemic

You know him.

You're probably texting him right now.

He's the appealing guy who flirts with you, yet seems to have a chronic fear of committing to an actual face-to-face meeting. And it's this very perplexing behavior that sends you into a tailspin, as, in all other respects, he appears to be smitten with you.

I, like many others, have been stumbling upon this modern day dodger more frequently than I'd care to admit. He's everywhere I look. He doesn't just react to your messages; he's often the initiator (which, according to the gentleman's handbook, is a clear signal of interest). He showers you with compliments, lavishes you with pictures, and seems to appreciate every pixel of your images.

Actually meeting up? Wishful thinking.

Let's christen this newfound creature of the gay dating world: The Keypad Casanova. He seems to find more pleasure in typing sweet nothings into the digital ether than exchanging words and laughs in reality.

The Keypad Casanova would rather text than meet. That's why, despite his countless confessions of desire, he never proactively suggests a rendezvous. When you propose a meet-up, his responses typically fit one of three patterns:

He conveniently overlooks your suggestion. He continues texting as if your invitation to coffee, drinks, or dinner was written in invisible ink. Initially, you wonder if your message didn't go through. But, lo and behold, it's sitting right there in the chat history, sandwiched between his confession of longing. Yet, each repeated invitation is met with a similar non-response. Could it be that he has an exclusive filter for unreadable texts?

He Comes Up with a Plausible Excuse. His car is indisposed. He's in the throes of moving. He's cramming for an exam. He's drained. His job is driving him up the wall. But don't fret, he reassures you, because he's eager to meet you—just not now.

He Masters the Art of Being Vague. You ask him to hang out. "I'd love to!" he proclaims, but, alas, he can't. Insert a sad emoji. He'll ramble on about how fun it would be to get together, but tonight just isn't in the cards.

"How about tomorrow?" you propose, ever the understanding soul. However, tomorrow isn't good either due to INSERT EXCUSE HERE. And when pressed, he embraces ambiguity, suggesting you "play it by ear."

Incredulous, you frantically shake your smartphone. Could this be the same person who's spent the last half an hour fawning over you?

On a whim, you decide to call him. After all, text messages are notoriously susceptible to misinterpretation. Ring. Ring. Voicemail. You leave a message because surely he must be keen to chat.

Good news: He replies! Bad news: It's a text.

In spite of everything, hope keeps afloat. It dawns on you slowly that anyone who responds to a voicemail with a text probably isn't eager to hear your voice.

His behavior puzzles you. He's always responsive, flirts unabashedly, showers you with compliments, and appears to be genuinely interested. Yet, trying to get him to commit to a meeting is like trying to identify an elusive food intolerance.

That's because he's the Keypad Casanova, a master of textual communication but a phobic of actual encounters. His hunting ground could be anywhere; you might have met him in real life at a social gathering. But he thrives on dating and hook-up apps. The shroud of anonymity provides him with a playground to flirt freely, sans consequences.

Weeks into your texting saga, your stifled ambitions give birth to a volatile mix of anger and powerlessness. It's like dealing with a big-name cable company. You threaten to terminate your "account" but find it hard to follow through, considering your lack of alternatives.

You finally confront the Keypad Casanova, telling him you'll cease the texts if you don't meet. To your surprise, he concurs. A time and place is set. You feel a surge of victory. Assertiveness, you think, is the key.

But alas, he bails at the eleventh hour. Insert Excuse Here. Or he stands you up. Insert Excuse Here. In desperation, you appeal to Apple or Android for a "Flake Block" feature.

Yet, despite your best efforts, a few days later, you receive another text from the Keypad Casanova. "Hey, handsome, how's it going?"