‘Going bush’ — the Australasian way to ghost someone
If they say they love the outdoors, you’ve been warned. Going bush, my friends, is the wild new form of ghosting…in Australia and New Zealand at least.
It all started with Roy.
I should have known on the first date when he showed up with a canoe tethered to the roof of his car. As he rocked up in a very scruffy, forest-green sweatshirt with tangled curls and the smell of fresh-cut grass looming about him I’m surprised I didn’t realize sooner that this man was trouble.
The date went quite well. I thought, “Maybe outdoorsy guys are my thing!” Nono. I was very wrong.
Roy and I hit it off. We texted. We got along. We set up the second date.
On the second date Roy he told me he was heading to Australia for the weekend to see a concert. He would “be back IN NO TIME,” he said. Note the foreboding.
He called me from Australia. He was sweet, engaged in our chats. He called me from the concert! Gosh, this guy was into me.
And then the weekend passed. A week passed. We were still in touch. But he was still in Australia. He was staying with friends. He was looking for a job. The excuses were mounting. Then I realized — he wasn’t coming back.
Somehow the guy I was seeing had managed to move to Australia without telling me. I tried to confront him about it. Then he stopped responding. He vanished into the mist, perhaps literally. Two weeks passed. Nothing. I wrote a message. Nothing. Tried a call. Still nothing. Wrote an eloquent “Hope you’re not dead” message. And promptly gave up. I had been ghosted. Or so I thought!
Some weeks passed and one day BING. The message arrived. “Hey, how have you been? Sorry, I went bush. I needed to clear my head and went on a solo canoeing trip for a few weeks.”
I can’t remember what my exact reaction was at the time, so I’ll fictionalize it for you: I burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. I rolled around on the ground, kicking my legs in the air, like a beetle that can’t get upright and in between short bursts of air I managed to voice, “ Went…BUSH?!”
Go Bush: to leave one’s city surroundings, to head into nature, to go rogue, to enter the wilderness. Often implies finding oneself. Can be associated with ‘becoming a man’.
Roy had ghosted me under the guise of wilderness adventure to evade the responsibility of having MOVED COUNTRIES; heading off, just Roy and his trusty canoe, to really get his head wrapped around things… and make me miss him enough to not be mad about the country change thing.
It didn’t work.
Outdoorsy ghost-boy #2: Dilip
I should have known when I met Dilip that with his tall stature, long curly hair, and surfer-like ‘nothing has ever phased me in my entire life’ vibe that he too would be the next case of wilderness-escapees.
Dilip and I met for a coffee on date one. There had been quite significant text banter pre-date so I was excited to meet-up properly. He told me about his work as a carpenter (hot). He told me about his years of summers teaching surfing (also hot). We sat on a bench and chatted about our zodiac signs(unexpected).
He texted me right after the date finished, “I like you”. He wanted to meet up again. Just like Roy, the keen vibes were surprising but welcome. He sent me pictures of him in his new camping-style hat. Oh, the foreboding!
Date two was perfect — too perfect. He took me to a secret pizza place. He took me up to some hill. I should have noted the inclusion of nature. He called in a favour and got late-night doughnuts. Then he dropped the bomb. He had been offered a job up north redoing a friends house. He said it was a shame because we were like a plant that was new and needed sun and water and yet he was moving it indoors too soon. How do I find these guys, honestly? He understood that if him moving ruined things or I didn’t want to take things any further. I had a doughnut in my hand — how was I supposed to be making rational choices?
The next day Dilip was a bit off. The pizza, nature, and sugar-coated haze had worn off us both and something stale hung in the air. It was one of those clunking-out-of-place moments. He was kind, reassuring. He liked me, he would call. He left, with only a pebble from his shoes left behind as evidence of our time together.
The next day I woke up to a missed text from Dilip at 6am saying, “Hey, I’m headin’ bush last minute. Talk in a couple days.”
It had happened again! My mind raced. Bush? What bush? Why at 6am? How had he not known these plans the night before? Had he really been thrown for such a loop by our weird morning that he needed time in nature to recover? Perhaps this sensitive plant-metaphor-maker really was a softie.
Five days passed. How long could one man “go bush”?
It got to mid-week. This was absurd. I called him and he answered fresh as a daisy but sketchy as hell. He had been caught. “How was the bush?” I asked. It had been good, he responded. “How long have you been back for?” I asked. He paused.
The answer: since the day he had left! Going bush had in fact been a ONE DAY hunting trip. He had come back that very same night (the night we had been supposed to hang out) and has been living in the city as usual for days.
The man had barely gone bush. Once more, it was a creative way to wriggle out of accountability. I gave an excellent speech on respect and cowardly behaviour, on the lost boys of our generation. He listened long enough to stop caring and peaced out like any good surfer boy does.
Has going bush presented a more guilt-free option than ghosting? To ignore someone or cut them out with no explanation because you don’t feel the same, have lost interest, or have generally too-hard-basketed them has always seemed a harsh and avoidant style for coping. Perhaps going bush is the more Kiwi or Aussie way to go about things — it’s blokey, a bit mean, but chill all the while.
Nature provides a temporary hideout that allows these creative ghostie-boys to abandon their emotional responsibilities and put someone on hold. It also allows a return that normal ghosting does not. Everyone knows camping doesn’t involve using your cellphone, so OF COURSE it’s normal to disappear and pop back up after an excursion in the great outdoors.
I wish I could say these were unique stories, but these stories seem to be popping up everywhere.
My advice: If they are cool and calm, a bit too aloof, and love the outdoors, you may just get caught up in a “gone bush” disappearance. Do not be deceived — it’s just ghosting in camo pants.
