Context: a situationship after which we decided to stay friends; we seemed to have moved on, but recent events made me question my ex-situationship’s extra-friendly behavior.
I was at a pub when I received a “someone_you_dated liked your story” notification. My boyfriend looked at the phone and somewhat absentmindedly asked if this was a friend. His naive question made me wonder whether my ex-situationship, whom I am going to call “R,” was indeed just a friend, appreciating my artsy photograph of Blue Mountain, or if there was more to this innocent, yet unusual behavior. This wasn’t the first time R initiated contact – he had previously replied to my stories, sent me birthday wishes, and liked a picture of my Valentine’s Day bouquet, with the latter hinting at a more “I-have-moved-on-and-am-happy-for-you” sentiment. Of course, it is perfectly normal to keep in touch – we had agreed to stay friends after all – but my intuition hinted at something that was worth investigating, and so I turned to the internet.
My search led me to a term known as “orbiting,” coined by Anna Iovine, which originally described a situation where a person whom you were involved with suddenly cuts contact, all the while maintaining their online presence in your life. As with most linguistic matters, words tend to evolve and “orbiting” now describes a situation when an ex, or anyone from your past, lingers in your digital orbit without engaging in meaningful communication. The connection could have ended mutually, and even amicably, but the orbiter’s actions remain the same in the aftermath. A similar term, “paperclipping,” was coined by Samantha Rothenberg (@violetclair) in a comic. It illustrates someone unwanted who reappears in your life unannounced, reminiscent of Microsoft’s Clippy. The comic reads, “Sometimes I pop up for no reason at all. Like now. See, the truth is, I’m damaged, flaky, and not particularly interested in you. But I don’t want you to forget I exist :(“
An important similarity between the two terms is the intention behind the behavior – neither the orbiter nor the paperclipper have any real intention of building or repairing the relationship. In a sense, they are both evanescent creatures – pixies of the haunted woods of modern dating, phantom ships lost in unpredictable waters of passion. Nevertheless, paperclipping involves more direct communication including messaging, while orbiting is characterized by indirect communication, often through observation from a distance. As Iovine puts it, orbiting is when you are “close enough to see each other; far enough never to talk” (Oxford Languages, 2018).
Paperclipping is also more manipulative, which introduces a toxic power dynamic. The paperclipper is someone who abandons the connection and then attempts to keep the abandoned person on the back-burner by sending sporadic messages. The relationship dynamic in orbiting, however, does not have to involve abandonment – one can still orbit after a mutual, peaceful breakup. It is also worth noting that orbiting is not exclusive to exes; friends and family can also orbit (Davies, 2018). Modern life has turned us all into amateur astronauts – floating in and out of each other’s orbits, pretending it’s gravity when it’s really just a habit. While the differences are subtle, my search led me to believe that I was being orbited rather than paperclipped – we ended peacefully, fully acknowledging the finality of our decision and wishing each other the best in what is yet to come.
We have discussed the terminology, but we are still missing a significant piece of the puzzle – what drives these behaviors? The investigation continued, this time in my head. Have I ever orbited? In some ways, orbiting seems to be a natural and somewhat innocent behavior given our human tendency for curiosity. As clinical psychologist Michelle Crimins notes, we’re wired for voyeurism. We once had tabloids and reality TV, and now social media is reality TV with our own cast of characters (ibid). I am not a serial orbiter – I orbit briefly, always from a distance, never intending to reconcile. In fact, more often than not I remove my exes and ex-friends once I’ve grieved and let go (yes, I realize this essay is about the one exception), meaning that I don’t leave myself the chance to orbit even if I am incredibly curious. Akin to cold and distant Neptune, I orbit billions of kilometers away and drift outward with time, defying the pull of curiosity.
When it comes to being orbited, I can similarly accept the behavior if it’s within certain bounds. I accept that as humans we are inquisitive beings who discovered the convenience of keeping up with our exes’ lives through a single phone tap. In fact, I think it is naive to expect not to be orbited by other people if you allow access to your social media. The discourse is heavily focused on the orbiter, but we should also investigate the motivations of the “orbitee” for allowing that contact to exist in the first place. Maybe the motivation is an ego boost, maybe it’s a chance to show how well we are doing, or maybe it’s a fickle attempt at maintaining an enticing, yet destructive relationship. In some cases, the motivation isn’t clearly defined or might, in fact, be innocent – we may see no harm in being connected online, or maybe we would feel unnecessarily cruel cutting someone off for no apparent reason. Regardless, it is important to reflect on your motives before getting caught up in the motivations of others. Put simply, cultivate your own garden, and the weeds might magically disappear.
The diagnosis is final – we orbit because we are still curious, and thus still interested. Where do we go from here? Frankly, I can’t tell you. All friendships, relationships, situationships, and almostships have their own unique dynamic, and prescribing a single course of action would be too bold. That said, we need to admit that orbiting is, at best, a childish thrill that feeds curiosity or ego while sowing confusion and, at worst, a quiet cruelty that deepens someone’s hope, delaying closure, and prolonging heartbreak under the guise of “harmless” contact. There is no ambiguity in an intention to reconcile and anything less than clarity is, ultimately, self-serving.
Oh, and if you are wondering about me, I decided to stay true to my tested ways. Initially, I thought about straying from the narrative of removing past connections and leaving the matters as they are, but after R had reached out once more, I felt conflicted. While I doubted the existence of residual feelings and was certain of his friendly intentions, the possibility of friendship remained far-fetched in my mind. I knew that we could never be friends, because I would be an unwilling friend. Perhaps in a utopia where interactions are frictionless, friendly breakups could lead to friendships, but in this world, I severed the connection completely. Out of sight, out of mind – and at last, out of orbit.
References:
Davies, T. (2018) Is someone ‘Orbiting’ You On Social Media? It May Be Hurting Your Mental Health. Available at: https://www.nbcnews.com/better/pop-culture/someone-orbiting-you-social-media-it-may-be-hurting-your-ncna883721 (Accessed: 3 March 2024).
Oxford Languages (2018) Word of the Year 2018 Shortlist. Available at: https://languages.oup.com/word-of-the-year/2018-shortlist/ (Accessed: 1 March 2024).