There’s a fine line between self-love and self-adoration, and a lot of us cross it without even realizing what’s happening.

Somewhere along the way, we were told to love ourselves so fiercely that we stopped leaving space for curiosity. We got good at affirming ourselves, defending our decisions, and rewriting stories in our favor, but not always great at asking, “Where might I be wrong?” or “What could I do differently?” In the name of self-care, we’ve sometimes built walls where mirrors should be. And while confidence is powerful and beautiful, unchecked self-admiration can turn into delusion, especially in dating.

This isn’t about blame. So many of us put up these walls because we’ve been hurt and our hearts are tender and tired, and shifting that pain to someone else is self-preservation.

This is about introspection. About recognizing that patterns don’t just happen to us, but that we participate in them. And sometimes… we are the pattern.

Maybe you chase intensity and call it chemistry. Maybe you push people away and call it boundaries. Maybe you never ask if your expectations are realistic, because your self-narrative doesn’t allow for that kind of doubt. The truth is, it’s easy to confuse “loving yourself” with never questioning yourself, but growth lives in those questions. Real self-love isn’t about always being right. It’s about being open. Open to feedback. Open to seeing things differently. Open to realizing that maybe the problem isn’t just everyone else. Maybe, sometimes, it’s you.

But here’s the thing: that doesn’t make you unlovable. It makes you human.

From that place, where self-awareness meets self-compassion, everything starts to shift. You become less interested in defending who you’ve been, and more curious about who you’re becoming. You stop auditioning for love and start preparing for it. Not because you’ve finally fixed yourself, but because you’re finally telling yourself the truth.

In the name of radical self-acceptance…👇👇👇

There’s a new frontier in modern alienation, and it’s gamified. Tinder has rolled out an AI-powered flirting simulator called “The Game Game,” where you can practice seducing bots before attempting to connect with actual humans.

This really got Team Necterine talking.

The premise, allegedly, is that this will help you “level up” your skills before entering the emotional Thunderdome of real-life dating. But that begs the question: who’s deciding what good flirting looks like? Who’s teaching you how to read a room, pick up on subtext, or know when it’s time to stop talking about your crypto side hustle? Are we trusting a chatbot to decode chemistry now?

Of course, the real danger isn’t just that this feels vaguely like auditioning for a part in your own love life. It’s that the line between preparation and performance, self-improvement and self-erasure, starts to disappear. If an AI can make you more attractive, more clever, more confident—who, exactly, is showing up to the date?

This past weekend, we took a little team outing to 4100 Bar in Silverlake to chat with folks about dating, love, and what the future of dating apps should look like. We have a few thoughts we’d like to share from our field research (that was completed with a paloma and a beer or two in hand) and the themes that kept coming up:

We’ve lived everything that was brought up, and while we wish we could say Necterine has all the answers to every dating problem known to mankind, that would be wildly irresponsible. So, suffice it to say, we’re working on creating an environment that helps break those cycles so you (and we) can find something meaningful in a time where we need it more than ever.

We’re rooting for you!

xoxo,

Team Necterine

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