“It just went on and on,” Yali said, frustration creeping into her tone. “He told me about some kumzitz club he runs, but he made sure to say that he’s not that great, the kids only come for the food. I started talking about the trip my roommates and I took to the Grand Canyon and he said, ‘I could never organize such a thing, I’m totally useless when it comes to stuff like that.’

“But,” she announced, “the worst was when we ordered drinks and he realized he had left his wallet in the car. I didn’t think it was such a big deal but he said, ‘I can’t ever get my act together, what’s new?’ Mrs. Leiman,” she said, all the perkiness in her voice gone, “I am not interested in dating someone who thinks they can’t ever get their act together!”

Danny, of course, wanted to go out again. “It was good,” he said. “I would love to go out with her again. But she’ll probably say no.”

“Really?” I said. “Why do you think so?”

I thought this might just be the self-deprecating pattern Yali had described, but he surprised me with some real self-awareness.

“I don’t think I presented myself well on the date,” he admitted. “I know this about myself already. Whenever I date a girl I like, I start acting this way. I don’t know why. I don’t do it on purpose. But I hear myself being very critical or negative about myself. Sometimes I’m even embarrassed to hear myself talking. I don’t know what to do about it.”

I’ve seen people sabotage their relationships in all kinds of ways.

Sometimes the person becomes extremely, ridiculously oppositional. I remember one girl whose date told her he loved pizza — a fairly innocuous comment. She replied, “Pizza?! Are you serious? It’s so oily and greasy, whenever I eat pizza I feel sick for days. I haven’t eaten pizza in years and if my friends go out for pizza I never join them!”

Sometimes people sabotage a relationship by saying outrageous things. A fine, upstanding Bais Yaakov girl I know once told her date that she loves reading horror mysteries, and her favorite holiday is Halloween. A guy once told a girl he was dating that if he could choose any career, he’d become an assassin. True story.

And sometimes, as in Danny’s case, it takes the form of extreme self-deprecation.

Danny already knew what he was doing. But he needed to figure out why he was doing it.

“It could be a learned behavior,” I explained to him. “Maybe your father or a sibling does this, and you picked it up. But usually, something extreme like this stems from a fear of having a close relationship, or from a general lack of self confidence and self-esteem.”

He was quiet for a minute, not agreeing or disagreeing.

“Sometimes, if someone has a difficult or abusive relationship with a parent, sibling, or close friend, or has some kind of unresolved trauma, they have a deep mistrust of close relationships. So when a relationship begins developing, they subconsciously find a way to kill it immediately.”

Still quiet.

“Danny, does any of this resonate?”

He let out a breath.

“I have a pretty tough relationship with my mother,” he admitted quietly. He was silent again for a minute. “I hear what you’re saying. I need to think about this, where to go from here, but you’re right that there’s no point in me dating right now.

“Still, can you do me a favor? Can you ask Yali if she’d be open to dating again in a few months? Explain to her that it’s nothing personal. Tell her I’m interested in her, but I’ve become aware that I have to work through some things, and I need to take some time off to do that now.”

Yali was impressed. “Omg,” she said again, when I relayed the message. “He has guts.”

Honestly, I wasn’t sure what Danny would do. Would he follow through on his inspiration, or would he chicken out? Would I ever hear from him again? Would Yali?

I’d almost given up when he called me seven months later. In the voicemail he left me, he sounded great — positive, even eager. He felt he was in a better place now, he said. He wanted to know if Yali was still available.

I called Yali. She was.

I was slightly apprehensive as their dates progressed, until Yali called me after their fourth date. “You should know,” she said, “he’s for sure different than last time around. He’s not a Mr. Ego, but he has, like, a quiet confidence. I can see so much more to him now, he’s so smart, and has a great sense of humor. Thank you for working on this for me. He’s a special person.”

Three weeks later she called again. “Mrs. Leiman!” She giggled, sounding giddy. “Remember I was telling you about Danny’s sense of humor? We were talking about you and he called you ‘Mrs. Wiseman’ instead of ‘Mrs. Leiman.’ I corrected him and he said he likes ‘Wiseman’ better.”

I laughed along with her, loving how this time, Danny seemed to be bringing out the full power of her sparkling personality. “Thanks for letting me know!”

“Oh!” She giggled again. “That’s not what I called to tell you. I called to invite you to our l’chayim.”

Shani Leiman is a teacher, shadchan, and dating coach. She lives in Silver Spring, Maryland.

Ring Me will be going on a short hiatus, but we’ll be back with more stories soon.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 723)