Unpacking My Obsessions: Why I’m Low-Key in Love With Maps, Old Movies, and the Perfect Sandwich
You can tell a lot about someone by what they choose to obsess over. And let me just say, if someone judged me strictly based on mine, they’d probably think I’m either training to be a 19th-century explorer, auditioning for a film noir reboot, or launching a one-man quest for culinary divinity. None of those things are true (although I wouldn’t exactly complain), but my quirks—maps, classic movies, and sandwiches—have a way of sneaking into every corner of my life, from how I approach relationships to how I navigate a bad day.
We all have those things that fascinate us, that make other people squint and go, “Wait, what?” But when you pull the thread, those passions tell you—and everyone else—a lot more about who you are. So, here’s me, unpacking mine.
Latitude, Longitude, and Love: My Map Obsession
Let’s start with arguably the nerdiest of my obsessions: maps. Specifically, the kind you’d unfold on a road trip, not the one on your phone barking “rerouting” every time you miss an exit. There’s something uniquely magical about paper maps. They’re chaotic and full of mystery, like a Choose Your Own Adventure book but with dodgy gas stations.
Maps first got to me during a grade school geography bee—I cracked open an atlas and was instantly hooked. I loved how the spidery lines of highways connected cities I’d barely heard of, how mountain ranges and oceans were reduced to squiggly suggestions. And I think a part of me fell for the idea that there’s always a path forward; you just have to figure out which route to take.
Here’s a fun fact I learned from this obsession: The oldest surviving map dates back to Mesopotamia, around 700 BCE—proof positive humans have been trying to get their bearings for millennia. Kind of like dating, no? Have you ever been elbow-deep in a new relationship, only to realize you have no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going? That’s prime “staring at the map without a clue” energy. Maps teach you patience—the realization that the destination will be worth it, even if you make one too many U-turns along the way.
Does this mean I have a framed 1880 map of Toronto in my living room that I occasionally pull out for guests because “look how much Gerrard Street has changed”? … Maybe. But hey, whoever dates me gets the perk of someone who can navigate both emotionally and geographically. Trust me, you want the guy who knows the value of recalibrating.
Casablanca and Chill: My Black-and-White Movie Obsession
You know what’s better than a rom-com? A black-and-white film dripping with longing, a moody jazz score, and more yearning glances than actual dialogue. I’m talking “Casablanca,” “The Third Man,” or basically anything with Ingrid Bergman or Humphrey Bogart. I stumbled into my love affair with old cinema one rainy Toronto afternoon when I was 14, vaguely attempting to impress a crush by renting a “classic” from the library (I was that teenager). The crush didn’t pan out, but the obsession stuck.
Part of the appeal is the romance of it all—these films often exude a kind of unapologetic, sweeping intensity. No texts left on “read,” just straight-up declarations of love via typewritten letters or standing outside train stations in the snow. Compared to the Tinder-era ambiguity I’d later encounter as an adult, it all feels so… refreshing.
But there’s also an unintentional wisdom in those old scripts. A Bogart line like, “Here’s looking at you, kid,” may sound dated (or mildly patronizing) out of context, but it’s a reminder that love doesn’t have to be complicated to be sincere.
Here’s what this obsession taught me: Relationships are a mix of sepia-toned moments that feel timeless and some cringe-worthy dialogue you silently hope no one remembers. My advice? Roll with it. Lean into your inner lead character. And maybe, just maybe, plan a date night around an old movie—I mean, if someone sat through “Double Indemnity” with me and actually got it, I’d probably propose on the spot.
Sandwich Therapy 101
Let’s pivot to something far more edible. Sandwiches (yes, sandwiches) are my third and arguably most relatable obsession. I’m not just talking about slapping together some ham and cheese here. I’m talking next-level sandwich sorcery—crafting the perfect bite, where every component plays a role like an impeccably cast heist team. You’ve got crunchy bread, a creamy spread, fresh crunch, and some gutsy protein. You think this sounds over-the-top? Go ahead—tell me you wouldn’t marry someone who shows this level of focus in building a meal.
My sandwich fixation began during my university days when I was both broke and hungry—a magical combo that sharpens your culinary creativity. Like, how do you turn two slices of bread and whatever’s in the fridge into something so satisfying you feel like a contestant on a cooking show? Let’s just say I graduated with an English degree and a minor in the art of balancing mustard heat with avocado smoothness.
But sandwiches are also kind of poetic. They're made of layers (cue Shrek voice: “Ogres have layers, sandwiches have layers”), not unlike people. When you’re dating, you’re peeling back the layers of someone else’s personality—figuring out how the crunch of their humor complements the savory sweetness of their kindness. Too much sriracha (read: unresolved baggage)? That’s a sandwich you’re gonna want to set down.
Practical takeaway? If someone doesn’t appreciate your sandwich craft or your quirks, they’re probably not your person. Or they need to try the balsamic-glazed grilled cheese you perfected after years of trial and error.
Embracing the Quirks That Make You, You
So what do maps, movies, and sandwiches have to do with relationships? Everything, actually. Passions are like breadcrumbs leading us back to who we are—they anchor us, challenge us, and teach us stuff we never knew we needed to know. They also make us interesting, which, let’s face it, is the real MVP when it comes to love and life.
Think about your own obsessions. Sure, maybe your thing isn’t seeing how many maps you can squeeze onto a Pinterest board, or tearfully defending “It Happened One Night” as the greatest rom-com of all time. But whatever lights you up? That’s worth leaning into.
Here’s my challenge for you: Wear your weirdness like a badge of honor. Talk about that sci-fi fanfic you wrote in eighth grade. Teach someone how to fold an origami frog. Let your passions shine through, because they’re probably pointing you toward someone who’ll embrace every last square-inch corner of your metaphorical map.
And if someone judges your quirks a little too harshly? I’d suggest politely walking away… possibly via an excellently highlighted route on your favorite paper map.
