why did he stop texting me suddenly

We were sitting across from each other at dinner on the second date, the conversation flowing, both of us talking and listening. We stayed out late. There was physical chemistry—kissing, touchiness, affection. In person, she seemed engaged and interested; she was present, affectionate, easy to talk to.

But between dates, it’s different. I’d check my phone, looking for her reply. There would be a message, but it was always brief, just a short response with nothing to build on. No follow-up question, no effort to keep the conversation going. If I didn’t send something, the chat would just stall.

This was already happening before our second date. I noticed then that I was always the one doing the work, trying to keep things moving with new topics or questions. Her answers were short, sometimes just a line, and she didn’t really ask about me. I kept thinking maybe it would change if we got closer, if the dates went well.

After the second date—the dinner, the easy talk, the affection, the kissing—I expected things to pick up over text. But they didn’t. If anything, her replies became even less frequent, even shorter. Sometimes I’d wait for a message, then finally send something myself, just to get a quick reply back.

I kept turning it over in my head. If she’s not interested, why keep meeting up, why be so affectionate when we’re together? But if she is interested, why does she barely text, and why is it getting worse? The contradiction sat there every time I looked at my phone.

It’s hard to know what to do. Part of me wants to ask her out for a third date, just accept this might be her style with texting. Another part feels like letting it go, since I’m carrying all the weight between dates.

So now, I keep checking my phone, reading the short replies, feeling uncertain. The in-person connection is still fresh in my mind, but the quiet between us is starting to feel louder. I haven’t decided what comes next.

He held me the whole time we slept. Close, touchy, never letting go. When we were together, I felt wanted. He told me more than once that he liked me a lot. In person, he was super kind and incredibly polite, and it was easy to believe everything was good.

Then we’d be apart. The silence would start. Sometimes I wouldn’t hear from him for days. Over winter break, six weeks long, I kept checking my phone. There was one message the whole time, not counting the text about when to pick him up from the airport. That one was just logistics. Otherwise, nothing.

I kept trying to figure it out. In person, he was so into me—almost like I couldn’t get him off me. But once he was out of sight, it was like I didn’t exist. I couldn’t make sense of the switch.

After break, I finally managed to catch him between classes. I asked for my stuff back. He gave it to me, hugged me, and apologized. We agreed to meet on Friday.

Now I have my things back. We’re supposed to see each other on Friday, but I doubt it’ll happen. The uncertainty is still there, coloring everything. I don’t know why he disappears when we’re not together, or if he’ll show up. I’m just waiting to see what happens next.

We’d stayed up late, talking over wine, swapping stories about our families. He told me about his parents’ divorce, his mom’s affair, the custody battle when he was a kid. He showed me photos, asked to see mine. It felt like we were letting each other in.

But that morning, everything was different. He got up quickly and said he was going to take a shower. No kiss, no good morning. When he came back, he didn’t offer breakfast like last time. He told me his dad was coming over, that he needed to buy groceries and clean, and that he could call me an Uber.

I said okay. There wasn’t much else to say. When the car arrived, he gave me a quick, unemotional kiss, and I left.

I checked the time when I got home—around 11am. Now it’s almost midnight. Twelve hours. Nothing from him. He’s been online, but I haven’t heard a word.

I keep thinking back, trying to trace where things shifted. Three weeks ago, our first date lasted five hours. We just walked, talked, laughed. No drinks, just us, moving through the city. He kissed me when we said goodbye. Two hours later, he messaged me. After that, we texted every day, sometimes all day.

A couple days later was our second date. We met for a hike—he held my hand the whole way, was so touchy-feely. That night, we went to his place, talked, drank wine, slept together, cuddled. In the morning, he acted distant. It felt like he wanted me to leave, so I did. I wondered if that was all he wanted. But then, just a few hours after I left, he messaged again. The conversation kept going.

He asked me out for a third date, but I had to cancel because I was sick. He offered to change his plans to see me if I felt better, told me we could meet whenever I wanted. We still texted a lot every day. He seemed eager, caring.

Our third date finally happened three days ago. We went for dinner, then to his place again, talked, cuddled, had sex. The next morning, he was sweet, made me breakfast, asked me to stay. I hung around for a couple hours. We went for a walk, holding hands the whole time. When I left, I was sure he really liked me.

Later, I messaged him to ask if he wanted to hike the next day. He answered right away—yes, definitely.

Yesterday, we met for that hike. I could tell right at the start that he was distant. He gave me a kiss, but it didn’t feel enthusiastic. He didn’t take my hand, was quieter than usual. I asked if something was wrong. He said he was just a little hungover.

I didn’t know what to do, so I acted distant too. After the hike, I thought about just going home, but he invited me to his place for dinner. I said yes.

At his place, things seemed to get back to normal. He cooked dinner, we drank wine, got a little drunk. I told him I’d felt he was being distant, wondered if I’d annoyed him or said something wrong. He apologized, said absolutely not, that he’s just a weird person and very independent, needs space. He said that spending two days with me should show that he likes me.

We talked for hours. He opened up about his family, about what happened when he was a kid. We shared photos, asked questions about each other’s lives. It felt close, honest.

But this morning, it was like none of that had happened. He was distant again, rushing around, talking about his dad coming over and needing to clean, offering to call me an Uber.

Now I’m here, waiting, not sure what happened. After a month of daily contact, this silence is new. I keep replaying the moments: the walks, the wine, the hand-holding, the conversations, the cold mornings. I don’t want to message him—I’m too old to chase someone. But I keep wondering if I missed something, if I did something wrong, if he’ll reach out, or if this is it.

When we were together, everything felt easy. He’d kiss me, hug me, compliment me, check that I was comfortable before anything physical happened. He’d offer to pay for our dates, and I’d offer too, and he’d never insist.

But when I was back at my place, the space between us stretched out. My phone would sit there for hours, sometimes a whole day or two, with nothing from him. No “good morning,” no “good night,” not even a “how was your day?” The kinds of messages I’d always gotten from other guys just didn’t come.

When he did send a message, it was only to set up the next date. Cut and dry. “Have to work today. Let’s schedule for next week.” That’s what his texts looked like—no warmth, no affection, just plans.

He just said, “Texting is just a communication tool for me.” That was all. I didn’t know what to say after that, so I let it go.

But it stuck with me. I kept missing him between dates, kept wishing he’d reach out just to say hi or tell me he was thinking of me.

I started wondering if maybe he only cared about seeing me in person. Maybe all that affection was just about being physical. Or maybe I was making too much of it, reading into things that didn’t mean what I thought.

I didn’t want to end it. I liked him. The chemistry was real, and we laughed a lot when we were together. But the silence between dates started to feel heavier. I couldn’t tell if I was being unreasonable or if something really was missing.

So I stayed, uncertain. The pattern never changed. I’d wait for a message, and most of the time, there wouldn’t be one.