Human relationships are no longer woven solely in the intimacy of direct contact, but unfold on the boundless stage of the digital world. In this territory, where presence becomes performance and silence an emotional strategy, a disturbing and sophisticatedly damaging phenomenon has emerged: orbiting. A practice that redefines emotional disengagement, imbuing it with an ambiguous and passive-aggressive aesthetic, characteristic of an era where love is negotiated between algorithms, reactions, and states of connection.
Far from the abrupt cutoff proposed by the now-familiar ghosting, orbiting—a term coined by journalist Anna Lovine—operates with clinical subtlety. It consists of the communicative disappearance of a person who, nevertheless, maintains constant interaction with their ex-partner’s digital content. They don’t answer messages, they don’t return calls. But they observe, they like, they comment. They are. Without being. “Close enough so that both can see each other; far enough away so that they never have to speak,” says Lovine.
Of “neither with you nor without you”
This kind of intermittent, spectral, and carefully calculated presence responds to a new emotional logic: that of performative detachment. It’s no longer about breaking a bond, but rather keeping it in a kind of emotional limbo, alive enough to continue feeding the orbiter’s ego, but distant enough to avoid assuming any emotional responsibility.
Persia Lawson, an expert on emotional bonds, sums it up this way: “having one foot in and one foot out.” Orbiting embodies indecision as a strategy, passive flirting as a form of control, and ambiguity as a shield. We are, in short, faced with an emotional choreography perfectly assembled for visual consumption, but emotionally unsustainable for those who suffer from it.
Digital Narcissism and Affective Control
From a clinical perspective, psychologists at the MC Integral Psychology Center have described this practice as a form of emotional avoidance, closely linked to narcissistic traits. Orbiting, they explain, allows one to “remain the center of attention without exposing oneself, without committing, without closing oneself off.”
In other words: it’s the art of not letting go. A way of remaining anchored to the other’s life without getting involved, but ensuring one remains present in their emotional imagination. Motivations can vary: from fear of loss (FOMO), to unresolved guilt after a breakup, to the conscious desire to keep a door ajar for future possibilities.
But, at its most perverse, orbiting is ego-feeding. A contemporary form of reassurance through the other’s digital attention.
The Emotional Architecture of Digital Control
For the orbited person, this phenomenon translates into constant emotional interference. The impossibility of closing an emotional chapter intensifies when, day after day, the other person’s digital presence silently invades personal space. What does that like mean? Why are they seeing all my stories? Is they present… or are they just using me as a mirror?
These types of dynamics generate anxiety, obsession, emotional dependence, and a persistent feeling of being watched but not heard. A phantom presence that contaminates grieving processes and blocks any real attempt at emotional reconstruction. Orbiting is not harmless. It is a silent form of emotional manipulation. A control without words.
How to deactivate the orbit
Faced with this phenomenon, the recommendation from a psychological perspective is clear: cut off digital access. Silence, restrict, block. Not as an impulsive act, but as a conscious gesture of self-preservation. Emotional health, in the digital age, is also measured in terms of what we choose not to look at, not to allow, not to accept.
And here’s an uncomfortable truth: if someone avoids direct contact but insists on orbiting your social media, what they’re looking for isn’t reconnection, but rather to continue exerting a silent power over you. Real affection isn’t demonstrated with likes. It’s expressed with presence, consistency, and words.
Liquid Relationships
Orbiting is the postmodern sublimation of broken bonds. An evolved form of ghosting, more sophisticated and crueler. It’s no longer about disappearing, but about maintaining expectations. Of not being there, but still being there. Like an emotional satellite that eternally revolves around something that no longer exists.
In this context, Generation Z faces a new pedagogy of love: that of establishing digital boundaries as clear as their emotional ones. Because lack of contact doesn’t always mean absence, and constant presence doesn’t always imply love.
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