Ghosting, seen-zoning, and ‘uwi na ako’
Dating in the Philippines has always been a rollercoaster of emotions, emulating plots in teleseryes and Korean drama. But in the golden days of harana (serenading) and love letters, romance was slow-cooked like a good pot of bulalo, and dating was an art form that involved the entire community.
Nowadays, in the era of 5G and unlimited data, dating has become a digital minefield. The rules are undefined, the heartbreaks inevitable. And the exit strategies? They’ve evolved into these iconic cop-outs,umm, maneuvers: ghosting, seen-zoning, and the ultimate, time-tested “uwi na ako.”
Ghosting: The disappearing act. Imagine meeting someone over a romantic dinner. The conversation is flowing smoother than a fresh bowl of galbitang. You exchange memes, talk about your shared love for samgyupsal over a glass of somaek, and even plan a hypothetical trip to Jeju Island to complete the K-drama experience. Then suddenly—poof!—he vanishes faster than your Grab booking during rush hour. No explanation, no goodbye, just digital tumbleweeds where your notifications used to be.
Ghosting is the modern “vanished without a trace” move, perfected by commitment-phobes and accidental Caspers alike. But it’s really nothing new, just the evolved form of the classic Pinoy love story trope: when the protagonist’s love interest conveniently migrates to Canada or the UK, enters the seminary, undergoes sex reassignment surgery, or joins a rebel group in the mountains.
At least in teleseryes, you get a dramatic explanation. In real life, you’re left staring at your last message like Regine Velasquez or Juris in Tuwing Umuulan at Kapiling Ka—full of hope, yet drenched in disappointment.
Seen-zoning: The digital snub. This is a practice so brutal it should be considered an MMA spin-off. You pour your heart out in a message, carefully curating your words to be sweet but not desperate, funny but not cringey. And then…nothing, not even white noise. Just that dreaded “seen” mark, sitting there like a smug third party in a soap opera.
Seen-zoning is ghosting’s passive-aggressive cousin. If ghosting is an abrupt escape, seen-zoning is the slow, painful realization that you are, in fact, not worth a reply. It’s like knocking on someone’s door and watching them peek through the window, make eye contact, and then walk away. The pain is real.
Even Filipino pop culture continues to capture this heartbreak. Just listen to Zack Tabudlo’s Pano, a song that aches with love lost, longing, and the dreaded unanswered why. It’s the modern-day version of that crushing moment when you realize, “Ah, hindi na ako mahal.”
Modern dating in the Philippines is a mix of drama, rom-com, thrills, and horror. It’s a world where ‘seen’ can be more painful than outright rejection.
Uwi na ako (I’m going home!): The classic escape plan. And then, the crown jewel of all Filipino dating maneuvers: the timeless uwi na ako. This is the exit strategy of choice for anyone who finds him/herself in an awkward, boring, or downright disastrous romantic situation.
Bad date? Uwi na ako. Ran out of things to talk about? Uwi na ako. Realized they look nothing like their profile picture? Uwi. Na. Ako.
There’s a certain poetic beauty in this phrase. Unlike ghosting or seen-zoning, uwi na ako offers closure. It’s a gentle way of saying, “This is where our love story ends. Farewell.”
Of course, depending on the situation, it can also be a lifeline. Filipino moms (and BFF) have long mastered the art of the “emergency call” to rescue their children (or besties) from bad dates.
Modern women: Higher standards, higher stakes. In this evolving dating landscape, modern Filipinas are not the same women from decades ago. They are more educated, much more independent, and have greater expectations from men. If those expectations aren’t met, they’d rather stay single. After all, why settle for a man who can’t match your energy when you can travel, chase your dreams, and adopt a cat (or a dog)? Nobody wants to be shortchanged anymore. As they say, tanga lang ang nagpapakaloka sa lalaki o sa pag-ibig. At mas lalong tanga ang mga nagpapabuntis nang maaga dahil… tanga nga to begin with. (Only foolish women lose themselves over men or love. And those who get pregnant early are even more naïve, simply because they weren’t smart from the get-go).
Love, after all, should empower, not deceive or ensnare.
The other side: When the victim is the guy. So far, this discussion has shown the issues from the feminine perspective. But men could be victims, too. After all, ghosting, seen-zoning, and heartbreak don’t discriminate, especially with the way modern gals approach dating and relationships.
If you’re a guy, you’re likely to be absorbed in your own machismo that you’ve made a true connection with your date, of course, after deluding yourself that the convo was great and you share some eccentricities in common, like a disdain for pineapple on pizza or mayo on hotdog. Then, when the evening is over, nothing. You check your phone after sending several messages. Seen. No reply. You try to convince yourself she’s just busy, not chatting with another guy, or worse, laughing at you with her bestie. But deep down, you know she’s gone, and, like Hall & Oates, ask, “Oh why, what went wrong?”
In my head, the lyrics of a 1979 song by The New Minstrels (I suppose they’re ancient now) play loud and clear: “I don’t love you anymore / Can’t you see it’s just no good? / I’ve gotta walk out that door. / There’s nothing left to say. / I’ve gotta go my way.” Ouch!
Nugagawen? Do you try to … send more messages before eventually calling (stalker alert!), hit the gym to burn off pent-up passion (as if), or drown your sorrow over drinks with your gang (if you want to be further emasculated)?
Maybe, just move on like any rational adult—by inhaling unli-wings with a side of japchae, deleting the chat, unfriending your “ex” (she might hook up with your male friends), while convincing yourself you’re totally fine.
Where do we go from here? Modern dating in the Philippines is a mix of drama, rom-com, thrills, and horror, much like the descriptions you see on Netflix. It’s a world where one too many emojis or shared reels can be a turn-on or a total turn-off, where “seen” can be more painful than outright rejection, and where love can vanish faster than a discounted item on Shopee or Lazada.
But in all this chaos, maybe the best move is just plain honesty—with yourself and with others. If you’re not feeling it, say so. If someone put in the effort, acknowledge it instead of hitting them with the dreaded “seen.” Sure, these exit strategies are easy, but what if, instead of a clean escape, you take a chance? Not out of charity, but because, who knows—it might just be the slow, unexpected start of something real, something good, something worth sticking around for.
