Ghosted? No. He Called Me First to Say He Couldn’t Do It

Emotional maturity > age. And other lessons from the almost-date that never was.

The story of a younger guy who surprised me, flaked on me, called me twice, and unknowingly mirrored back everything I’ve been trying to fix through Necterine. Here’s what it taught me — about projection, emotional availability, and why every connection holds value (even the weird, unfinished ones).

Somewhere between product meetings, pitch prep, and fixing onboarding flows, I realized something kind of… embarrassing.

I hadn’t been on a date since November.

I was building the thing that was supposed to help me meet the person — but in doing so, I’d completely put aside everything that might actually help me meet them.

The irony? I’m the founder of a relationship wellness app built to help people date and connect better.
The deeper irony? I just needed to go on a date myself.

So, like any good millennial would, I reopened Hinge, refreshed my profile, and widened the age range… in both directions.

---

Heatwave swipes and surprise matches

The matches were few and far between. The conversations? Slower than a dial-up modem in 2001. Most of them felt like we were playing a game of “loser messages first.”

Then, in the thick of a Saturday heatwave, I matched with Dave.

His message was thoughtful and a little funny — a callback to my beloved alma mater, a nod to my complicated Jewish identity, and just enough wit to make me stop and wonder: Could there be depth here?

I opened his profile. Not a ton of info. And then — oh. He was 31. Seven years younger than me.

In the past, that would've been an immediate swipe left. My brain would’ve gone straight to: He’s basically my baby cousin. I remember when that kid was in diapers. Or: He was literally in middle school when I was drinking jungle juice at college parties.

But he was persistent. Sweet. He made me laugh. And something about the exchange felt… refreshing.

So I said yes.

---

“Does the age difference bother you?”

He wanted to meet that night. I offered the next day.

Then, instead of confirming plans, he texted:

“Does the age difference bother you?”

I told him no. And it wasn’t a lie. I realized in that moment it genuinely didn’t bother me. Because it wasn’t about the number of years lived — it was about what someone’s done with those years. The depth, the perspective, the self-awareness.

He replied:

“I’m not sure.”

And I almost bowed out right there. If he wasn’t sure, I definitely wasn’t going to convince him.

But what happened next was kind of wild — and honestly, kind of beautiful.

---

A stranger turned into a mirror

That hesitation turned into vulnerability. His walls didn’t go up — they spilled over.

Dave started opening up about his dating life. About how confusing it’s been trying to navigate what he wants. About how rejection hits hard. About how he swings between craving something deeper and retreating into casual flings.

His texts turned into voice notes. Mine did too. We went back and forth for hours — voice, text, more voice — talking about dating, identity, therapy, and what I’m building with Necterine.

I was conscious not to step into healer or coach mode. I just… showed up. Flirted. Listened. Enjoyed it.

It felt easy. Honest. Surprisingly emotionally available for someone younger than every man I dated in my 20s and early 30s.

So when Wednesday rolled around, I wasn’t thinking about “is this my guy?” or “does this lead anywhere?” I was just genuinely excited. To get dressed, go out, grab a sexy drink at my favorite cocktail bar, and talk to someone who could actually hold a conversation.

That alone felt like a win.

---

And then the phone rang.

I was halfway through my outfit planning when my phone lit up. It was him.
My first thought: This isn’t great news.

He told me there was a family emergency. That he had to cancel. He didn’t owe me anything — we didn’t know each other. But I was disappointed. Still, we talked for 30 minutes. About art, politics, living in LA. He said he’d text me later that night to reschedule.

He didn’t.

The next afternoon, I checked in. Gave him the benefit of the doubt.

No response.

Then Friday, out of nowhere, he texts casually:

“What’s your plan for the weekend?”

No reference to the missed date. No “sorry I disappeared.” No new plan.

Just… vibes.

So I asked him directly:

“Do you still want to get together?”

His response:

“Yeah, come on over.”

Nope.
No.
Absolutely not.

That wasn’t the energy I signed up for. That wasn’t a date — that was a “you up?”

I sent a snippy little text with just the right amount of attitude. Then he called.

---

“I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

He said:

“I just can’t do it. I know you’re older, and you want a husband and kids, and I probably just want something casual. I don’t want to go through the motions and risk hurting you.”

And my mind kind of exploded.

Because nowhere in our conversation had I said I wanted anything from him. He was projecting an entire future onto me — marriage, kids, expectations — without asking me a single question about what I actually wanted.

I told him, bluntly:

“Yes, I want those things. But not with you. I just wanted to go on a date.”

He seemed surprised. Said I seemed lovely. Said he might really regret this. Asked if he could still text me.
I said no.

Then, on Monday night, 9pm:

“Drinks?”

Nope.

---

So what did I actually learn?

• We’re not getting ghosted — we’re ghosting ourselves.
  We make assumptions. We project. We write stories in our heads about other people instead of asking actual questions. And then we use those stories to back out before anything begins.

• Clarity is a gift.
  Even though I didn’t get the date, I did get the honesty. The call. The words. And I really appreciated that. It was vulnerable. Human. Real.

• I’ve changed.
  I didn’t spiral. I didn’t try to fix it. I saw it clearly for what it was — a misalignment. Not a personal rejection.

• There’s value in every connection.
  Even the unfinished ones. Especially the unfinished ones. That’s the whole point of Necterine — it’s not about the fairytale ending, it’s about the growth you get from every moment along the way.

And for all his flakiness and overthinking, this 31-year-old did remind me of something powerful:

When we stop projecting and start listening — to ourselves, to each other — something shifts.
That’s where connection begins.

Even if it ends with a missed drink.