Somewhere between obsession and delight lies the soul of a Southerner. At least, that’s what I tell myself whenever I find yet another rabbit hole begging to swallow me whole. These obsessions—quirky, personal, impossibly specific—are less hobbies and more woven threads of identity, the kind that somehow explain why you'll always find me debating the architectural merits of a transom window or swooning over a good monogrammed handkerchief. Call them quirks if you like. I call them essential.

And while many of us bring passions into a relationship—sports, macarons, themed karaoke nights—I’ve found that my own particular collection of fascinations sometimes leaves people scratching their heads. These fascinations, while charmingly esoteric (at least to me), often serve as quiet revelations of my world. But you have your quirks, too, don’t you? Perhaps you're the kind of person who alphabetizes your spice rack or memorizes the names of every actor who ever had a speaking role on The West Wing. If so, welcome. Pull up a chair. Let’s unpack the obsessions that shape who we are—and how we love.

The Floor Plans of My Heart

I confess: I can’t walk into a building—any building, mind you—without mentally sketching it into grids and elevations. Thanks to my father’s influence (he spent decades restoring Savannah’s historic homes), I grew up amid columns and cornices. While other girls were crafting visions of their dream weddings, I had blueprints of my future Victorian that included a widow’s walk and a charmingly impractical library turret. Romantic, right?

But here’s what obsession with buildings taught me about relationships: function matters as much as design. I once dated a man—let’s call him “No Storage Space”—whose life was a minimalist’s dream and my personal nightmare. We would argue about his empty walls and unadorned surfaces. He called my antique furniture “clutter”; I pointed out his lack of emotional shelving. Reader, we did not last. If someone can’t offer room for your quirks, the foundation will crack, no matter how beautiful the façade.

Haunted by the Past (and Loving It)

Southern Gothic literature is more than just a genre; it’s a worldview. I think Flannery O’Connor understood that human relationships, like old Southern mansions, are best when they’re complicated, a little haunted, and prone to the occasional collapse under the weight of untold secrets. My obsession with such stories once led me to an ill-advised summer romance with someone who fancied himself a modern-day Heathcliff. (Spoiler: brooding eyes only get you so far when someone has the emotional range of a porch swing.)

Here’s the thing about loving old, creaky narratives: they teach you the art of nuance. Relationships aren’t polished rom-com moments; they’re messier, with whole chapters misunderstood until years later. Learn to love the myths, ghosts, and complexities of your past (yours and theirs), and you’ll see your present more clearly. Just… maybe skip dating anyone whose entire vibe screams “I wear emotional distress like cologne.”

The Fine Art of Portraying Yourself (Not Perfectly, But Honestly)

In the realm of personal quirks, my penchant for analyzing 19th-century portraiture comes with certain unintended side effects. For example, I sometimes describe people I meet as though they’ve just stepped out of a John Singer Sargent painting. That friend of yours with the intense eyebrows and preternatural elegance? “Vermeer lighting meets Gothic drama,” I’ll say, nodding appreciatively. Your date with the too-tight tie and faint air of melancholy? “A study in beige.”

But here’s what art history teaches us about modern relationships: authenticity trumps pretense. Portraits from centuries past often presented subjects in their most idealized forms, but real connections demand truth. A good relationship isn’t built on playing a role but on showing your brushstrokes, imperfections and all. So, embrace your quirks. Let them hang in your metaphorical gallery. The right person will love your oddities as much as the main exhibit.

Obsession Made Manifest: The Relatable Edition

I know what you’re thinking: “Celeste, this all sounds terribly niche.” And you’d be right. But while my passions skew old-world (with the occasional restoration scandal thrown in for good measure), yours may be decidedly more modern. Maybe you’re an aficionado of obscure indie bands, a Dungeon Master who has mapped every facet of their fictional universe, or someone deeply suspicious of people who pour milk before their cereal. It doesn’t matter—what matters is how you frame it.

When it comes to relationships, our quirks act as lighthouses. They signal the shape of our character across the distance. But there’s an art to navigating how (and when) to shine that light. A few tips:

  • Celebrate your rabbit holes aloud. Whether you’re ranting about 1970s Verona glassware or the injustice of unbuttered popcorn, let your passion breathe. Animated enthusiasm is magnetic.
  • Don’t mistake obsession for identity. Our quirks complement who we are, but they aren’t the whole painting. Never hide behind them to avoid vulnerability or self-examination.
  • Be curious about theirs. You may not immediately delight in post-modern poetry or Sunday morning car shows, but loving someone often means finding value in what resonates with them.

Love, Like Obsessions, is a Process

Here’s the ultimate gift of obsession: it teaches us patience. When I look at a restoration project—whether it’s an abandoned southern church or a once-grand love life—progress happens in stages. Shingles are replaced; windows are resealed. Small fixes make glorious transformations. And so it is with the things we love, and the people we choose to let love us.

So, unpack your passions, however peculiar they may seem. Let them define your world. And then, if you're lucky, find someone who doesn’t just tolerate your quirks but delights in them. Because whether you’re opening a rare first edition or debating the merits of Victorian versus Greek Revival columns, you deserve a love that builds, supports, and whispers, “Yes, more of that.”