I've been Goshted by The Ghost Whisperer.

Hey, fellow victims of the vanishing act of Ghosting. Today, I want to share my tragicomic tale of how I got ghosted.

Now, I’m not talking about friendly ghosting where you disappear to grab a pizza. No sir, no. I’m talking about a Houdini-level disappearing act that leaves you questioning your entire existence.

So, picture this: Life is good, and I have found someone who laughed at my jokes and tolerated my questionable dance moves. But ( there is always a \"but\") my romantic endeavors were about to take a detour into the twilight zone – the ghosting zone.

J and I have been trying to catch up with life and synchronize our chaotic schedules lately. She just started a new job, and I’ve been juggling more responsibilities than a clown at a birthday party. But hey, love conquers all, right?

In an attempt to spend more quality time together or more likely just time together, J convinced me to join her for a yoga class on the beach. Now, if you know anything about me, you know that I suffer from the “brick syndrome”, and unless stretching the truth is considered yoga, the only thing I love about yoga is leggings. God bless leggings! So I agreed.

Now, here’s the kicker – I couldn’t just show up to a yoga class in any old pair of sweatpants. Oh no, and again if you know me enough, you know I would have to level up my embarrassment game.

So, I spent a few hours searching for the most ridiculous yoga pants I could find. EUREKA, the ones with unicorn patterns would do the trick. I sent J a pic of my fashion-forward choice, and to my surprise, her response was a casual, \"You do you, boo.\" Translation: I’m not impressed, you idiot.

Exhibit A

Fast forward to the day of truth – yoga on the beach. Luckily, no goats were involved. Yes, apparently, people do yoga with goats, and some even do it naked. Goats, not people – they’re always naked.

Anyway, as we headed to the beach, J pointed to a woman on a bench and said. \"She used to be my client. A good tipper, but a bit of a complainer.” I’m standing there, thinking, “Sweet, This is one of those ‘open up to your significant other’ moments where I get to play the role of the “understanding boyfriend”.

The problem was, there was no one on the bench. I scanned the bench looking for this woman, but nothing. I start wondering, did I blink and miss the lady? I mean, even if the lady on the bench was a \"Flash mom\" straight out of the DC universe, it’s a stretch to believe she pulled a Houdini on me. (You see what I did there? Yoga - Stretch. I know, I’m that fast.)

Then, it hit me, I did try to embarrass her with my unicorn yoga pants, so this was J’s way of getting back at me. So fair game, right?

We were stuck at a red light, and J continued pointing to the empty bench talking about this woman. There was something in her voice that sent shivers down my spine, and then I remembered. She mentioned a few weeks ago how a member of her family had this supernatural power, you know seeing dead people. Fuck me, that family member was her.

I began to sense a vibe akin to that famous line from \"The Sixth Sense\" when Cole Sea, the kid, drops the bombshell: \"I see dead people.\" Except, in this case, J wasn’t seeing the paranormal; she was spotting the ghost of a former client. Is this what being Ghost means?

Turns out, J wasn’t seeing dead people; she was pointing at the AD on the BENCH, spotting a former client, in the AD.

In the end, we ended up laughing a lot, a lot, but for different reasons. She was laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and because apparently my face was quite a poem. I laughed with relief. I don’t know how I would have reacted knowing that she can see things that I can’t. Well, actually that already happens, she sees colors that I don’t see. Magenta? Marengo? I can barely see clear white...

In the end, being ghosted taught me a valuable lesson, our love life is so thrilling that has its own supernatural twist.