Page 5 of Seven Rules for Breaking Hearts

“Probably to your email.”

Another series of clicks. “Found it. Are you on the boat yet?”

“Yes, I’m on the boat,” I said, standing in one of the aisles as I scanned the surrounding seats for familiar faces. None stuck out. Maybe the other members of the wedding party were scheduled on different ferries. I stepped off to the side to allow a family of five to pass by, leaving the beachy scent of Coppertone in their wake. “And before you ask, it hasn’t changed much.”

“It’s been almost a decade now,” Mom said after a brief pause, her voice a familiar melancholy. “But I think I’m looking forward to going back.”

We’d visited Catalina almost every summer, when I was growing up. My parents had honeymooned there. I’d even worked as a lifeguard for one of the island’s summer camps, the summer before senior year. But that had all stopped when Mom and Dad split. Avalon harbored too many memories, turned bittersweet in the wake of everything that had happened. If Mom was looking forward to visiting, maybe that meant she was ready to face those memories again—to forget everything Dad had done. I wasn’t quite on the same page.

But I didn’t know how to begin to express that, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to, so I changed the subject. “Did you know that the song about ‘twenty-six miles across the sea’ is talking about the distance from L.A.? Which makes no sense when you think about it. There aren’t even ferries out of L.A.” I’d paid to park my old pickup in a dingy structure in Long Beach for two weeks—an expense unfortunately not included in Castaway Catalina’s packages.

“Oh, Margo, it’s just a song. Did you think The Beatles were singing about an actual submarine?”

“There’s a difference between a metaphor and misinformation,” I grumbled. Nonsensical songwriting was one of my biggest pet peeves. If you were gonna make a song about it, at least make it make sense. “Anyway, I need to find a seat. Call you later?”

“You better,” she threatened cheerily.

Hanging up, I walked over to the concession stand at the center of the boat and paid for an overpriced can of Sprite, a safeguard against seasickness. From one of the nearby seats, a guy in a green Caltech ball cap and wayfarer sunglasses seemed to be watching me, elbows resting on his knees, a pair of wired earbuds dangling between them. The corner of his full lips quirked in a smile, and he raised a hand in a hesitant wave. A faint dimple appeared in his right cheek.

I snorted. Not happening, dude. I wasn’t in the mood for dealing with random men, good-looking or otherwise. I mustered up my best unapproachable scowl and climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

Once outside, I claimed a seat toward the back of the boat, right beneath the rippling American flag. It was a gusty oceanside day, the sun warming my skin and the breeze cooling it in turns. The ferry pulled away from the dock with an uncomfortable lurching sensation and began the wide, unwieldy turn to exit the harbor. My stomach churned. I popped the tab on my Sprite and took a few glugs for good measure.

Why had that guy stared at me like that, anyway? I wasn’t looking my best, at the moment. Hair in a sloppy bun, wearing leggings and an oversized CSUSB sweatshirt that I’d borrowed from my college roommate and forgot to give back before graduation. Plenty of guys said things disguised as compliments like I like a girl who’s comfortable with herself or you look better without makeup, but there was almost always an agenda behind it. In my experience, they were often lying through their teeth. Not all of them, but enough of them.

The boat had started to pick up speed. The flag whipped loudly overhead and stray hairs threatened to escape from my bun. I polished off my Sprite right as the ferry entered the open ocean. Already I could spy a sliver of island on the horizon, twenty-odd miles away from home.

Season Five, Episode Three—To Ghost, or Not to Ghost?

42 min 13 sec

Go: One of our listeners—her name is Raquel, shoutout to Raquel for being a loyal listener, she’s been listening since Season One, everybody. Anyway, so, Raquel sent us an email this week asking whether we’d ever been ghosted.

Jo: Oh, God, yes. I’ve been ghosted. Have you been ghosted?

Go: I’m trying to remember a time that I have, but I can’t think of one. I don’t think it’s happened to me. I mean, I’ve done a lot of ghosting.

Jo: There you have it, folks. The secret to success. Either be the ghost or get ghosted.

Go: [laughs] No, but in all seriousness, I’ve never trusted someone enough for them to have the chance. The thing is, guys always ghost the girl who’s chasing, chasing, chasing. I’m not saying that to hurt anybody’s feelings, it’s just reality. And then they’ll turn around and like, smother the girl who’s ignoring them. But as soon as she gives him the time of day, they’ll probably ghost her, too. It’s just how they are. They can’t make up their minds.

Jo: And that’s why you have to make it up for them.

Go: Exactly. Head things off at the pass.

Jo: So, the next part of Raquel’s question is what to do when someone ghosts you.

Go: You don’t do anything. Rule Number Four: Never exceed his effort.

Jo: I agree. No, don’t look at me like that—you guys can’t see this, but she’s totally giving me a look right now.

Go: I just think you have this tendency to be, like, overly trusting every time you meet a new guy. Sometimes you keep putting in the effort even as things are fizzling out.

Jo: I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Go: Yeah, but trust is earned, isn’t it? You wouldn’t go up to a stray dog and trust it not to bite you. Same thing with people. Like, sometimes it’s just in their nature. I’m not going to blame them for it, but I’m not going to trust them by default.

Jo: But for our listeners out there, don’t you think that’s a little strict?