The Essential Tension of Care in a Culture of Disposability

We live in a world that constantly pushes us to prioritize ourselves, our goals, our survival, and our happiness. This inclination toward self-care, while often necessary, has also birthed a culture where emotional detachment and interpersonal neglect are quietly normalized. Ghosting, breadcrumbing, and other patterns of modern relational disengagement mirror broader systemic failings: disposability, emotional austerity, and the illusion that care is finite.

For much of my life, I leaned hard in the opposite direction, consistently prioritizing the emotional needs of others while neglecting my own. The journey toward recalibration has been anything but linear. In striving for self-respect, I sometimes treated care for others as if it were at odds with caring for myself. The truth? Integrity requires space for both.

In this article, I explore what it means to cultivate a politics of care in dating, how ghosting exposes contradictions in our values, and why dignity must remain central to every human interaction.

What Ghosting Reveals About Our Values

I once went on a promising first date with someone I had been texting and talking to for weeks. A clear effort and attention were leading up to our meeting, affectionate texts, calls to "hear your voice," and shared excitement. Our dinner was engaging and smooth. We spoke openly about passions, goals, and values. When we parted ways, I felt uncertain about romantic chemistry, but confident we’d built enough rapport to continue a respectful dialogue.

So, I sent a simple follow-up message:

"Hey Sage. I hope you got home safely. I really enjoyed our conversation and would like the chance to continue it. If you're open to it, I'd love to take you out sometime soon. Either way, I'm grateful for our time together. Get some rest."

There was no response. Not that night. Not the next day. Not ever.

The silence wasn’t merely disappointing, it was disorienting. Our prior daily contact made the abrupt absence feel less like disinterest and more like erasure. It wasn’t just a closed door; it was a vanished building.

Ghosting is often framed as a harmless way to withdraw from unwanted intimacy. But ghosting is rarely neutral. It implies that someone’s presence, emotional or physical, was never significant enough to merit closure. It dismisses relational reciprocity and diminishes dignity.

The Politics of Care: Personal Choices with Public Implications

What does care look like beyond romance?

It looks like checking in after a date to ensure someone got home safely. It means offering clarity even in discomfort. A simple "thank you for your time, but I don’t see this moving forward romantically" can prevent confusion and preserve dignity.

The problem isn’t that relationships end. That’s natural. The problem is the casual cruelty we normalize in the process.

When we ignore how our actions or inactions affect others, we replicate the same structural coldness we critique in politics, workplaces, and institutions. We say we value compassion, transparency, and mutuality. But too often, we abandon those principles in our most intimate spheres.

Two Case Studies: Absence of Care in Everyday Interactions

Case One: Sage and the Disappearing Act

In the case with Sage, the lack of any follow-up despite days of close connection left me with unanswered questions and a lingering emotional vacuum. Was it something I said? Was I misperceived? Had I misread the entire interaction?

While I rejected the idea of entitlement to anyone’s time or affection, I also wrestled with the unsettling truth that many of us still practice care selectively when it’s easy, when it benefits us, when we feel like it.

Case Two: Amanda and the Vanishing Gentleman

A close friend, Amanda, shared her own story. After reconnecting with an old acquaintance, their night together ended with kisses, vulnerability, and a safe ride home. He even offered to split the Uber cost.

Then—silence. No Venmo. No check-in. Nothing.

Amanda wasn’t heartbroken. She wasn’t seeking a second date. She simply wanted confirmation that she had not been used or discarded. She expected basic care—the emotional minimum wage—and did not receive it.

Toward a New Ethic of Dating: Accountability, Clarity, and Warmth

Imagine a different path: one where the end of a potential relationship doesn’t erase the humanity within it. I’ve had dates where I didn’t feel a spark—but instead of ghosting, I chose honesty. I wrote heartfelt messages like this:

"You are a bright, beautiful soul. I admire your clarity and courage. While I didn’t feel romantic chemistry, I’m deeply grateful for the space we shared and would be honored to remain friends."

This approach has led to mutual respect—even friendship—because care doesn’t require romance, and boundaries do not preclude kindness.

What We Gain by Choosing Care

Practicing a politics of care in dating requires three critical shifts:

1. Normalize After-Care – Small gestures (a check-in, a thank you, a clear no) cost little but mean everything.

2. Align Your Ethics and Behavior – Your interpersonal choices are part of your political practice.

3. Honor Dignity, Always – Not because someone earned it, but because we all deserve it by existing.

These principles aren’t idealistic, they’re foundational. The same care we wish to see in government, health systems, and schools must begin with us. If we cannot model compassion in our personal lives, our public commitments remain performative.

Final Reflection: A Life Aligned with Care

We can live in contradiction or in alignment. We can ghost or we can communicate. We can choose callousness or care. The world won’t change overnight, but every time we honor someone else’s dignity, we get closer.

Care doesn’t require endless emotional energy. Just intention. Just honesty. Just effort.

And when we practice those values daily, especially when it’s hard, we become the very transformation we’re waiting for.