Ever notice how some people seem to have a radar for when you’re online, but not actually available at their convenience? It’s like they see your PM “away” status as a polite suggestion rather than a firm boundary. I recently had a bloke, who apparently thought my politeness in my capacity as a chat room “admin” was a neon green light flashing “Please message me instantly when I come online.”
It didn’t happen all at once. This was a drama in three acts.
Act one: he messages me the second I go online the day after he had been in the room. I reply “busy,” keeping it polite, hinting gently that this isn’t a great time. You can almost hear him thinking, Busy lady? Surely she means I can still say hi.
Act two: he pops up again with another comment despite my “away” status. I say firmly, “pls don’t message when my status is “away”.” Cue imagined internal monologue: Away? That’s flexible, right? I’ll just say morning and it’ll be fine.
Spoiler: it wasn’t fine.
Act three: he messages yet again this morning. At this point, I go full boundary mode and reply: “Once again, my status was ‘away’ and you still messaged. It’s really disruptive; please don’t message me at all unless my status shows ‘online’. No need to acknowledge this.”
And just like that, poof, he’d “unfriended” me. Deletion. Ego dented, control restored his side.
Lesson learned? Probably not…
The psychology behind this can mean being called out on a boundary can bruise the ego, especially if you’re used to thinking politeness is permission. Instead of reflecting or apologising, some people choose the path of least resistance and vanish. Their internal monologue is probably: She said no, she’s firm, I feel awkward/how dare she! Delete and pretend none of this happened. Crisis averted.
At 59, recently divorced, and possibly a little rusty with modern social cues (or is he just someone that can’t take “no” for an answer?), my boundary threatened his expectation of effortless access, so disappearing was the easiest solution / I’ll teach her to ignore me and dump her. Watching it unfold is strangely satisfying. You stay polite but firm, and the drama resolves itself without you lifting a finger.
This sequence perfectly illustrates his way of coping. Rather than face minor discomfort, he chose to vanish, eliminating the reminder of his misstep / rejection. No acknowledgement, no apology, just a clean digital exit leaving his ego intact.
Some men take the “just popping in to say hi” approach to women onto a whole new level. There’s the guy who messages five seconds after your status goes on, then pretends it’s okay because he “didn’t notice” you were “away”. Or the one who leaves three half-hearted emojis after you’ve told him not to ping when away, thinking subtlety will pass as compliance. And let’s not forget the classic “I was just saying morning” excuse: yes, five minutes after you went away, conveniently timed like a digital ambush.
The takeaway is simple: boundaries work. Sometimes they provoke dramatic exits, sometimes they teach people to adjust. When someone deletes you after you’ve been clear and firm, it isn’t about you; it’s about their inability to tolerate minor discomfort that may just force them to look into the mirror… And honestly, that’s perfect. You don’t lose anything, you get peace of mind, and a perfect little insight into the human ego without having to raise your voice or use the angry emoji.
The funniest part is imagining his internal monologue at each stage: Busy? Surely that’s just rubbish. Away? Flexible, surely. Oh no, she quoted me verbatim and told me not to message again? Delete, delete, delete (b i t c h). Meanwhile, your “away” status quietly sits there, doing exactly what it’s supposed to do. You set the boundary, you enforce it, and the ego implodes.
So next time someone pops into your PM as soon as you go online, remember the three rules: set your boundary, be firm, and let the digital drama unfold. If they adjust, great. If they delete you, even better. Your time, your space, and your sanity remain intact, and you gain a story that’s oddly amusing to tell. And if you’re lucky, you get a few entertaining micro-anecdotes to add to the collection of “guys who just don’t get it,” which is worth more than any PM conversation could ever be.
