Block Me, Amadeus

I don't like treating goodbyes as permanent. I've had failed flings turn into lifelong friendships and made peace with people I thought would remain in the rear view forever. But there are three people I'll never entertain again: the man formerly known as my father, a friend I fought with more than I laughed with, and an ex-girlfriend who—in addition to being a moderately well-known metal singer—once broke into my home to steal a thousand dollars' worth of my stuff. We all have to draw the line somewhere.

For those edge cases, I'm ruthless with the block button. My mother's ex-husband is blocked on all social media, and I have him blocked both through iOS and my carrier. In the case of my ex, I had to take it a step further. During a cry session in my car on my last birthday, Spotify's DJ blessed me with a few of her band's songs. That band became the first I’ve blocked in my 15 years on the platform. It's unfortunate—they're incredibly talented—but peace becomes impossible in the presence of chaos.

Blocking doesn’t always have to be the result of something as drastic as a robbery; sometimes it’s just the cleanest way to create space. A few years ago, I spent several months trying to make things work with an ex. After a particularly unpleasant fight—we had a knack for escalating things in record time—we both independently decided to block each other. Not out of spite or resentment, but out of a desire to stop hurting, and to stop hurting each other.

That lasted about a month. But by then, we’d taken enough time to face the things we avoided while we were together. We were able to talk like people who liked each other again. Things didn’t work out long-term, but the block allowed us to end things on a kind note.

Before then, I oscillated between viewing blocking as a last resort at the end of an irreconcilable feud and a petty power move. But in the right hands, the block button can pave the way for a softer landing with some closure, or even mending a relationship once the dust settles.

Hopefully your dating life hasn't demanded such a close relationship with the block button; it's still worth keeping within reach. I've become quite fond of blocking creators who repeatedly find their way onto my For You Page despite my immediate scrolls (looking at you, “breaking news” guys). More pettily, I also use it on anyone who makes a snarky comment on one of my articles; this isn't an open invitation.

None of this is to say that the block button alone has made me a better person. But it has allowed me to give myself the space I need to not act in the heat of the moment.

There are times when the block button earns its permanence. If a friend can’t help but ask if they could pursue your ex twelve hours after you broke up while referring to her as your “sloppy seconds,” you’re well within your right to make that boundary a brick wall. But for lighter cases, like an avoidant ex who simply didn’t know how to express their concerns or affection, some distance may offer some clarity. For me, it’s even served as a bridge to rebuild a healthier relationship with that person.

Of course, blocking isn’t fun. Use it sparingly. But don’t do it with shame, guilt, or (importantly) spite. Treat it as a boundary that, even if permanent, can save your relationship from a harsher end. Next time you find yourself typing a long paragraph in the midst of a heated misunderstanding, ask if it’s worth sending in the moment, or if you should take a pause instead. You can’t hit unsend on words you regret, but you can always hit unblock.

My thanks to Daniel Varghese for editing this issue.