The Hinge Experiment: Missing Me Is Missing, and Gina Is on the Clock
It's time for another episode of The Hinge Experiment™, where I continue attempting to understand how two adults who supposedly joined a dating app eventually get to the part where they actually...
DATE.
I know. Radical concept.
We have a departure, a returning character, and another bold move from yours truly.
Missing Me Is Now Officially... Missing
Let's start with Missing Me.
I unmatched her.
I think the appropriate statute of limitations has expired.
We had discussed going out. She said Sunday could work. I suggested a place. I gave her my number. Sunday came and went. I followed up afterward.
Nothing.
At some point, you have to stop staring at the microwave waiting for something to cook when there isn't any food inside it.
So, I unmatched.
There is no anger. No hard feelings. No dramatic breakup montage accompanied by an Adele song.
Besides, she has my number.
If she wants to reach me, she can.
If she doesn't?
That's an answer too.
And thus concludes the Missing Me Era of The Hinge Experiment.
She came.
She matched.
She almost dated.
She disappeared.
Frankly, the screenwriters could have given that character a better ending.
Meanwhile... Remember Gina?
Gina actually predates Missing Me in the Hinge Cinematic Universe.
We've communicated sporadically, but we're still stuck in that strange dating-app purgatory where two people have matched and occasionally exchange words without getting anywhere near an actual date.
Yesterday morning, I asked:
“Good morning, Gina! Whatcha up to today? Are you available this weekend?”
She responded!
She was traveling to a 9 o'clock meeting in Shallotte.
Look at that!
INFORMATION!
A location.
An activity.
A complete sentence!
Naturally, I wished her a safe drive and asked what the meeting was for.
Later that evening, I followed up:
“How was your meeting?”
And today I decided enough was enough.
It was time for another bold maneuver.
I Asked for the Number
Yep.
I sent:
“What's your number?”
That's it.
No essay.
No speech.
No Morse Code.
No interpretive dance.
No 17-part explanation of why exchanging phone numbers might eventually facilitate two adults meeting somewhere for food.
What's your number?
Four words.
I'm trying to move this thing along.
I'd like to talk.
I'd like to get off the app.
And ultimately, I'd like to go on an actual date.
Remember dates?
Two people meet at a predetermined location at approximately the same time.
They sit down.
They talk.
Perhaps they eat.
Nobody ghosts anybody halfway through appetizers.
At least that's how I remember them.
Gina Is Now on the Clock
I'm not expecting an immediate response.
People work.
People have families.
People travel to meetings in Shallotte.
People have lives that don't revolve around checking Hinge every seven minutes to see whether some bald guy has asked another question.
I understand that.
But I'm also changing my approach to this experiment.
I'm not collecting matches.
I don't care whether my profile says I have one match, ten matches, or 100 matches.
A match that never becomes a conversation isn't particularly useful.
And a conversation that never progresses toward meeting isn't really what I'm looking for either.
So I'll give Gina a few days.
If something comes of it?
Fantastic.
Let's exchange numbers.
Let's talk.
Let's make a plan.
Let's meet.
If nothing happens?
Another match will be removed.
No drama.
No hostility.
Just...
Next.
Maybe That's the Lesson
I'm beginning to think online dating requires a strange combination of patience and knowing when to stop being patient.
You have to give people time.
But you also can't spend three weeks trying to extract a conversation from someone like you're interrogating a hostile witness.
“How was your day?”
Silence.
“What are you doing this weekend?”
Silence.
“Would you like to go out?”
Silence.
“What's your number?”
At some point I'm going to need a desk lamp, a windowless room, and two detectives playing good cop/bad cop.
I'm looking for someone who actually wants to participate.
Someone who asks questions back.
Someone who wants to talk.
And, eventually, someone who wants to meet.
That doesn't seem unreasonable on an app specifically designed for people to meet each other.
But I've been wrong before.
Current Hinge Standings
Kelli: Gone.
Missing Me: Officially unmatched. She has my number if she ever changes her mind.
Gina: Still alive! The latest pitch has been thrown:
“What's your number?”
Now we wait.
Again.
But only for a few days.
And somewhere, probably stretched out in a tiny imaginary beach chair wearing sunglasses, Steve the Iguana is watching this entire experiment unfold.
He's beginning to look awfully confident.
Don't get comfortable, Steve.
But...
keep Sunday open.
Day 88: NXDR Ends at $2.23—If Citigroup Sees $2.85, Why Doesn’t the Market?
It's Day 88 of my continuing Nextdoor case study, and today I'm looking at something that should be encouraging to me as a shareholder.
On August 17, 2026, Citigroup analyst Jamesmichael Sherman-Lewis maintained a Neutral rating on Nextdoor Holdings (NYSE: NXDR) but increased his price target from:
$2.30 → $2.85
That's a 23.9% increase in the price target.
Sounds pretty good, right?
Well...
NXDR ended today at approximately $2.23.
And that's where this gets interesting.
Citigroup says $2.85. The Market Says $2.23.
At $2.23, NXDR would need to gain approximately:
27.8%
to reach Citigroup's $2.85 target.
That's a substantial difference between what one major Wall Street analyst believes Nextdoor could be worth and what investors are currently willing to pay.
And on Day 88, that leads me to the obvious question:
If Citigroup sees $2.85 of potential value, why doesn't the market?
Don't Ignore the Word “Neutral”
Citigroup raised the target.
But it didn't upgrade NXDR to Buy.
The rating remained Neutral.
That's important.
Raising a target suggests the analyst sees greater potential value than before.
Maintaining Neutral isn't exactly someone running through Wall Street screaming:
“BUY NEXTDOOR!”
It's more like:
“There's more potential here...but we're still watching.”
As a shareholder, I understand the feeling.
NXDR Is Still Down 16.8% Since August 10
On August 10, NXDR closed around $2.68.
Today it ended at $2.23.
That's:
$0.45 lost per share.
Or approximately:
16.8%
Using roughly 387 million shares as a constant-share-count approximation, that $0.45 decline represents approximately:
$174 million in market capitalization.
That's an improvement from the approximately $205 million decline I calculated when NXDR was trading at $2.15.
But we're still talking about roughly $174 million in market value compared with August 10.
That gets my attention.
Markets fluctuate, share counts change, and one month of stock performance doesn't prove whether a CEO or strategy is succeeding or failing.
But shareholders can certainly ask why the market isn't assigning Nextdoor the value that Citigroup apparently believes is possible.
Where Is the Disconnect?
If analysts believe Nextdoor is worth more...
If management believes the strategy is working...
If advertising is growing...
If the small-business strategy creates value...
If AI-powered search improves the platform...
If verified recommendations differentiate Nextdoor...
Why isn't the market buying the story?
Maybe the market is wrong.
Maybe Citigroup is overly optimistic.
Or maybe investors see Nextdoor's potential but aren't yet convinced leadership can turn that potential into sustained shareholder value.
That's the possibility that interests me.
And What About That $100 Million Buyback?
This makes my recent question about Nextdoor's stock-repurchase program even more interesting.
Nextdoor has a $100 million share-repurchase authorization.
Yet the company repurchased zero shares during Q2 2026.
Put the numbers together:
NXDR closing price: $2.23
Citigroup target: $2.85
Difference: $0.62
Potential upside: ~27.8%
Buyback authorization: $100 million
If Nextdoor's Board and management genuinely believe the company is worth substantially more than $2.23:
At what price does Nextdoor believe Nextdoor is a bargain?
I'm not suggesting management blindly spend $100 million tomorrow.
Capital allocation isn't that simple.
But management already has authorization to repurchase shares.
If leadership believes NXDR is significantly undervalued, buying shares is one way to demonstrate that conviction.
Day 88: Less Storytelling. More Value Creation.
Nirav Tolia has been making the podcast rounds.
Nextdoor has been issuing announcements.
AI.
Verified neighbors.
Local businesses.
Recommendations.
Advertising.
Community.
Trust.
Great.
But ultimately:
Decisions drive value.
Not podcasts.
Not slogans.
Not press releases.
Execution.
Citigroup sees $2.85.
The market ended today at $2.23.
That's a $0.62 gap—or nearly 28% potential upside.
Someone eventually gets proven right.
And I Hope It's Citigroup
That's something that sometimes gets lost in my feedback.
I want Nextdoor to succeed.
I'm a shareholder.
If NXDR goes from $2.23 to $2.85—or considerably higher—I'm certainly not going to complain.
That's precisely why I've spent 88 days questioning leadership, communication, accountability, monetization and shareholder value.
I want Nextdoor to realize the potential people keep telling shareholders exists.
So on Day 88, my question for Nextdoor is simple:
If Citigroup sees $2.85, what does Nextdoor see?
More importantly:
What is leadership doing to close the gap between potential value and realized shareholder value?
Because shareholders can't spend price targets.
We own the stock that's actually trading.
Follow my continuing Nextdoor case study at NielFlamm.com/blog.
Life Beyond Cloud Nine: Yes, the Puppies Poop on the Clean Floor, Too
If you’re looking for a blog where every day is sunshine, every vacation is flawless, and every family gathering looks like a greeting card, you may have taken a wrong turn.
My blog, social media posts, and videos are a very unfiltered version of life. Sometimes I’m on cloud nine. Sometimes I’m trying to figure out how to get my popcorn and soda to my movie theater seat.
Both belong in the story.
For at least ten years, LinkedIn was about the extent of my social media presence. And even there, I didn’t post. I had either deleted Facebook or stopped engaging with it. I wasn’t on the newer platforms the kids were using—the TikTok, the Instagram, the Snapchat, and whatever else I was supposed to be downloading.
I stepped away because comparing my life to everybody else’s was doing a number on me.
Everywhere I looked, people seemed to be living exceptional lives. Amazing vacations. Awesome careers. Luxurious homes. Happy marriages. Families that weren’t toxic.
Meanwhile, I looked at my own life and wondered why mine didn’t look like that. The comparison drove me crazy. I felt depressed and anxious, and scrolling gave me more reasons to feel like I was falling behind.
So I stopped.
For a long time, I needed to stay away.
Then Laura, my physical therapist at MUSC, suggested that sharing my experience could give other amputees hope. Maybe someone trying to figure out their own life after an amputation could find something useful in mine.
That gave me a reason to come back.
I had no clue then that God would give me the strength to battle end-stage renal disease, failing eyes, and more. I came back to share my experience as an amputee, and life kept giving me more to write about.
My faith is part of that story. So are the hard days. Having faith doesn’t mean I suddenly have a perfect life to show off. It means I can tell you where I find strength while I’m living through it.
I write and post because I want life to feel relatable. I want someone to read something I share and think, “Okay. Somebody else gets it.”
And yes, I have some awesome experiences.
I go on cruises while continuing my search for a future ex-wife to share them with. Apparently, romance is alive and well, and my marketing strategy needs work.
I watch a bunch of movies. I also ask for help getting my popcorn and soda to my seat. That little detail belongs in the story just as much as whether the movie was any good.
There is enjoyment in my life. There is also illness, uncertainty, and the practical business of needing a hand sometimes. I can have a wonderful experience without everything else suddenly being wonderful.
That’s what you’ll find here.
If you’re tired of reading about how perfect everyone else’s life appears to be, follow along. Share my page with someone who could use a little hope, a laugh, or the comfort of knowing they aren’t the only one figuring things out.
I’ll keep sharing the cruises, the movies, the struggles, the faith, and whatever happens with that future ex-wife search.
Life isn’t all unicorns, puppies, and kittens that don’t poop on the floor.
Yes, they poop on a clean floor, too.
Recovery Update: Three Body Parts, Three Different Definitions of “Healing”
Another day, another round of “What exactly is my body doing now?”
The good news is that all three things I’ve been watching seem to be moving in the right direction. They just apparently have very different ideas about what the healing process should look like.
👁️ The Eye: Still Red, But No More Special Effects
The eye is still noticeably red and looks irritated, but the biggest news remains the best news: no dot. No bubble. No floaters. No eclipse. No horizon.
After everything I was seeing following the silicone oil removal, I’m perfectly happy with boring vision.
I’m continuing the eye drops and keeping an eye on the eye — yes, I said it.
💪 The Scraped Arm: Welcome to Crust City
The arm continues its transformation from open road rash into what looks like an archaeological excavation.
It is DRY. It is CRUSTY. It is SCABBED.
There’s also that whitish, flaky skin around the edges as everything dries out. At this point, I’m basically waiting for the scabs to decide they’ve overstayed their welcome and fall off on their own.
It may actually look more disgusting now than it did when it happened.
But underneath all that crustiness, it seems to be healing.
Do. Not. Pick. The. Scab.
I’m saying that mostly to myself.
🩸 And Then There's the Fistula Arm...
My fourth fistulagram was yesterday, and today the access site looks remarkably uneventful.
The little incision is there. There’s some bruising and discoloration around it, but compared with everything else going on with my body, this one is almost disappointingly boring.
The dissolvable stitch is doing its thing.
Still no Hello Kitty Band-Aid. 🎀
Apparently vascular surgery has excellent balloons but a terrible selection of designer wound care.
So today's scorecard:
Eye: still red, but the visual special effects are gone.
Scraped arm: crustier than ever, but healing.
Fistula arm: bruised, sore, stitched, and recovering.
None of it looks particularly glamorous.
But I'll take ugly and healing over pretty and getting worse any day.
$6,800 for a 2020 Toyota Camry with 33,000 Miles? TikTok, We Need to Talk.
I was checking the engagement on one of my TikToks when TikTok did what TikTok does: “Oh, you're finished looking at your own stuff? Here, watch this.”
And up popped a 2020 Toyota Camry LE.
According to the post:
Price: $6,800
Down payment: $500
Monthly: $250
Mileage: ONLY 33K MILES!
It is supposedly a “BANK REPOSSESSED VEHICLE.”
Wow!
A six-year-old Camry with only 33,000 miles for $6,800?
Where do I sign?
Actually, don't answer that.
I've seen this movie before.
When I first started getting active again on social media, scams like this were rampant. It seemed like every other short-form video was offering some ridiculously inexpensive repossessed car. The details changed, but the formula didn't.
Cheap car.
Tiny down payment.
Low monthly payment.
And some way to contact the seller outside the platform.
They disappeared from my feed for a while.
Apparently, they're back.
So instead of sending anyone $500, let's go shopping for some red flags.
🚩 Red Flag #1: A $6,800 Camry That Should Cost HOW Much?
The first thing I checked was the price.
The TikTok claims this is a 2020 Toyota Camry LE with only 33,000 miles for $6,800.
I checked Kelley Blue Book.
As of September 9, 2026, KBB's national figures for a typical-mileage 2020 Camry LE in good condition show approximately:
Fair Purchase Price: $17,500
Private Party Value: $16,150
Trade-In Value: $14,650Kelley Blue Book
And KBB's condition-specific estimates put trade-in value between roughly $13,190 and $15,540, depending on condition. Kelley Blue Book
Those numbers aren't specifically adjusted to this advertised 33,000-mile example, and location, condition, accident history, title status, and options can move a vehicle's value. But that's almost beside the point.
They're advertising it for:
$6,800.
That's less than half of KBB's $14,650 trade-in figure.
Think about that.
If this is really a clean, running 2020 Camry LE with just 33,000 miles, why would someone need TikTok to find a stranger willing to buy it for $6,800?
A legitimate dealer could presumably buy it for substantially more.
But apparently the bank has decided:
"Forget thousands of additional dollars. Find us somebody scrolling TikTok."
How generous.
🚩 Red Flag #2: $250 a Month... For How Long?
This is the part I really enjoy.
The graphic says:
Down payment: $500
Monthly: $250
Okay.
How many months?
What's the interest rate?
What's the APR?
What's the amount financed?
What's the total of the payments?
Is there a balloon payment?
Are there financing qualifications?
Nothing.
Just:
MONTHLY: $250
That's not how legitimate credit advertising is supposed to work.
Under the federal Truth in Lending Act's Regulation Z, stating the amount of a down payment or amount of a payment in a credit advertisement triggers additional disclosure requirements. The advertisement generally must also disclose the down payment, the repayment terms over the full loan—including a balloon payment if applicable—and the annual percentage rate (APR). Consumer Financial Protection Bureau
The CFPB even specifically identifies statements such as “$25 weekly” as payment amounts that trigger the additional disclosure requirements. Consumer Financial Protection Bureau
So let's return to our TikTok.
Price: $6,800
Down payment: $500
Monthly: $250
And...
That's it.
For fun, let's ignore interest, taxes, and fees entirely.
$6,800 minus $500 leaves $6,300.
At $250 per month, that's 25.2 months.
But the ad doesn't tell me that's the deal.
Maybe it's 36 payments.
Maybe it's 48.
Maybe there's interest.
Maybe there's a gigantic final payment.
Maybe the financing doesn't exist at all.
The monthly payment is the shiny object. The actual financing terms are missing.
🚩 Red Flag #3: How Exactly Do I Buy This Magical Camry?
Here's another interesting part of the post.
I don't see a phone number.
I don't see the name of a recognizable dealership.
I don't see a physical dealership address.
I don't see financing information.
I don't see a lender.
In previous versions of these ads that crossed my feed, there was often a WhatsApp number, WeChat account, or another internet-based messaging service waiting to take the conversation somewhere less visible.
This one doesn't even bother with that.
And yet people are engaging with it.
That makes me wonder whether the next step happens privately.
My Guess: Welcome to the DMs
To be clear, I haven't messaged this account, so I don't know what this particular account tells interested people privately.
But based on the pattern, here's what I'd be watching for.
Someone comments:
“Interested!”
Then a direct message arrives.
Maybe the car is still available.
Maybe lots of other people supposedly want it.
Maybe you need to act immediately.
And perhaps that $500 down payment suddenly needs to be sent electronically to “hold” the car.
Cash App.
Zelle.
PayPal.
Crypto.
Or another payment method where recovering money can be difficult once you've voluntarily sent it.
How convenient that the advertisement has already planted the number $500 in your head.
I'm not claiming that's what this particular account does without seeing the private messages. I'm saying that if the conversation moves toward an upfront payment before you've independently verified the vehicle, seller, title, and transaction, I'd be hitting the brakes harder than this Camry ever has.
But It Says “Bank Repossessed Vehicles!”
That's another psychological hook.
“Repossessed” provides a convenient explanation for the impossible price.
Why is the $17,000-ish car only $6,800?
BANK REPO!
It sounds plausible enough to stop someone from asking the next question.
But calling something a repossession doesn't magically erase its market value.’
Banks generally aren't in the business of intentionally giving away thousands of dollars because someone watched a TikTok.
The Scam Doesn't Need Everyone
That's what makes posts like this effective.
Most people can look at $6,800 for a low-mileage Camry and immediately think:
No way.
The scammer doesn't need most people.
They need the person who thinks:
“What if it's real?”
That tiny bit of doubt is worth $500 if you can persuade someone to send a deposit before investigating.
And the deal is deliberately attractive enough to encourage urgency.
Someone else is interested.
We can't hold it.
Send the deposit now.
Suddenly, there isn't enough time to look up the car's value, verify a VIN, call the bank supposedly selling it or physically inspect the vehicle.
Funny how that works.
A $17,500 Reality Check
This is why I love doing something incredibly sophisticated when I see an unbelievable deal online:
I Google it.
Kelley Blue Book says roughly $17,500 Fair Purchase Price for a typical 2020 Camry LE.
The TikTok says:
$6,800.
KBB says roughly $14,650 trade-in.
The TikTok still says:
$6,800.
Before worrying about whether I've discovered the automotive deal of the century, I'm going to ask why someone is willing to sell me a vehicle for thousands less than they could potentially get elsewhere.
Sometimes a deal really is a deal.
But when the price doesn't make economic sense, the financing details are conspicuously absent, the seller is vague and the entire transaction begins with a social-media video...
Don't let $6,800 make you forget to ask $17,500 worth of questions.
And please don't send the mysterious $500.
Follow along at NielFlamm.com/blog for more scams, questionable offers, suspicious recruiters, and other adventures from the stranger corners of the internet.