Halloween doesn’t exactly scream ‘romance’.
But, as a fresh-faced 20-year-old at Manchester University, and smack bang in the middle of cuffing season, I was keen to find a boyfriend.
App dating wasn’t a thing in 2010, and while my coupled-up university friends had met their partners on their courses, I studied foreign languages, which was thin on the ground in terms of men. I had resorted to gate-crashing engineering lectures to find a date, which didn’t prove to be fruitful – I got eyeballed by the suspicious professor and was politely asked to leave.
It was my friend Lizzie (also studying foreign languages, also struggling to find a boyfriend) who finally persuaded me to be her wing woman on Halloween night.
We headed for a bar in the Northern Quarter which was decked out in cobwebs and jack the lanterns; most of the students were dressed up, and we had opted for the lazy catwoman look in sexy black dresses and the cat-ear headbands.
As we got tipsy, I spotted a cute barman who resembled a Titanic-era Leo DiCaprio. I boldly made my move.
Despite having just bought a G&T, I downed it, strutted back to the bar and asked him if Halloween freaked him out. It was a cheesy line, but it elicited a devastating smile and his name – Hayden*.
Yelling over the funky house music, Hayden asked for my number and invited me to his band’s gig, adding, ‘And then we can have a proper date afterwards.’ Lizzie was by my side egging me on, ‘Nice one, Anya, he’s hot!’
I’ve always been a live music fan and was genuinely looking forward to Hayden’s gig the following night. He turned out to be a very talented guitarist and watching him on stage, I was keen to get to know him more.
I was excited, not knowing that after my Halloween success I was about to get into a horror story all of my own
After his set, Hayden popped off to buy a round of drinks and the singer, Katie, whispered, ‘He’s a great guy, Anya. He’ll treat you right.’
After an evening sharing cute glances, we slipped away to a nearby pub. When we kissed, there was an undeniable spark and after chivalrously walking me to my flat, Hayden asked for a second date. I had a good feeling.
Throughout November, we enjoyed a blossoming romance and honestly, the timing was great. I had envisioned cosy nights in and cute trips over the winter period with my new lover and Hayden didn’t disappoint: we met up for drinks, checked out Christmas markets and went ice skating, and I cheered him on at two more of his gigs.
I could see a serious relationship. Hayden’s attention was consistent, which I found considerate and sweet. I reasoned it was because, at 27, he was more mature than most university students.
As things progressed between us, Hayden met my cousin who was visiting from overseas and announced, ‘I can see a future for you two.’ It was validating – she was a good judge of character.
In early December, Hayden caught the flu. In the type of thoughtful move I had come to expect from him, he phoned me to postpone our date for that evening. He was apologetic and promised to get in touch when he was feeling better. I completely understood – it was that time of year. ‘Get well soon!’ I told him and put the phone down feeling a little sad to miss out on the date – but you can’t plan getting ill and I was confident I’d see him the following week.
Over the next couple of days, his consistent messaging suddenly ceased. My first instinct was to catastrophise; I figured he had lost interest and spent a miserable week waiting by my phone, determined not to message first and appear desperate.
I became worried, assuming he was ill. In 2010, the idea of ghosting would have been something I dressed up at the Halloween Party, not a way to dump someone.
I texted Katie from the band asking her if Hayden was OK, but she replied with a vague, ‘I haven’t seen him this week, but I’m sure he’s fine.’
Now genuinely concerned, I swung by the bar a few days later. According to one of the bar staff, Hayden no longer worked there.
I had reached a dead end. I’d known Hayden for five weeks; we weren’t officially in a relationship but his disappearance still hurt a little. Mostly, I was just confused – and still worried.
Back home over the Christmas break, curiosity took over and I searched for Hayden on Facebook. I remembered Hayden telling me he wasn’t active but it was the only social media around then, and my last resort.
There wasn’t an account under his name, but his band had a Facebook page. I noticed one fan who liked and shared all the band’s posts. Hayden had founded the band, did all the songwriting and was very proud of it… I clicked on the profile. It was him.
Except instead of ‘Hayden’ he was calling himself a different name and there were very recent photos of him…In China. I was speechless. And irritated. And also quite impressed. How had he managed to lead two separate lives? Surely, his band knew he was going to leave the country?
In some of the photos he was accompanied by a pretty woman, obviously his girlfriend, because his latest Facebook status read: ‘She was worth the move, I’m settling into China nicely. Merry Christmas guys!’
Not only had ‘Hayden’ travelled thousands of miles across the world without so much as a goodbye text, he was living there.
This development was shocking – and hilarious. I instantly phoned Lizzie. We were both in hysterics; she couldn’t believe it either
I didn’t bother contacting Hayden again. It was obvious that I was his fun sidepiece until he got his Chinese visa approved.
Ghosting is part and parcel of dating these days but my first experience of it taught me an important lesson that is a lot easier to follow in 2025: always digitally vet a new lover, just in case they’re hiding a girlfriend…or an imminent move overseas.
*Names have been changed
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