The Place That Made Me

Growing up in Charleston, South Carolina, is like living in a love letter to the past—where cobblestone streets meet Spanish moss-draped oak trees, and every corner whispers a story older than America itself. But let me tell you something they don’t write about in those South Carolina travel guides: falling in love with yourself in a place so dripping with history, tradition, and “bless your heart” Southern charm is no small feat.

Charleston raised me to understand that love, whether romantic or self-directed, is a slow simmer, not a flash in the pan. It’s layered, like the flavors in Gullah red rice, and just as worth the effort. The lessons I learned from my home—wrapped in lowcountry sunsets, tidal creeks, and the hum of distant church choirs—are the ones that shaped who I am in every connection I’ve ever made.

Roots, Rhythm, and Romance

Let’s start with the obvious: Charleston is a stunner. She’s the kind of city that walks into a room and makes heads turn. But her beauty runs deeper than pastel-painted row houses and swoon-worthy harbor views. Charleston, for me, is all rhythm: the clap of hands during a Sunday praise song, the cadence of family storytellers weaving Gullah history, the distant drum of ocean waves as my grandparents reminisced about “how things used to be.”

It’s that rhythm—of family, community, and culture—that became my North Star as I started navigating relationships. Love isn’t about who can sweep you off your feet with the grandest gesture (though I’m always here for a well-timed bouquet of fresh-cut hydrangeas). It’s about who can find your rhythm and fit into it like they’ve been humming along all their life.

Charleston taught me to reject the idea of love as a flashy, microwave-ready thing. Instead, I understood love as a slow build—a soulful hymn that keeps harmonizing over time.

Date Like a Griot

Storytelling was serious business in my house. My grandparents would sit on the front porch and tell tales that weaved history, humor, and life lessons into every sentence. “A good story,” my granddaddy used to say, “ain’t just what happened. It’s how you tell it.”

Dating, it turns out, isn’t much different. A first date isn’t just about the exchange of facts (though yes, you should probably mention if you have an ex you’re still texting—because nobody needs that surprise in Act Three). It’s about the way you tell your story. Are you hinting at complexity? At resilience? At the messiness that makes life interesting? Because let me tell you, the messy bits—those are the real gems.

On a date, I always carry a piece of Charleston with me. I tell the story of the one hurricane season when we lost power for a week but discovered how to fry green tomatoes on a camping stove. Or the one about how my mom taught me which parts of a sweetgrass basket are the most intricate to weave. They’re not stories to impress; they’re stories to connect. And my little hometown taught me that connection is the whole point.

Find the Beauty in the Marsh

Charleston is a city of contrasts. She’s bright and lively, like a flirtatious wink, with a side-eye of history that isn’t always as pretty as the travel brochures want you to believe. The city’s beauty is inseparable from her murkier parts—like the way her lush marshlands thrive on brackish water, where salt and fresh mingle unapologetically.

That duality shaped how I approach relationships and self-discovery. Dating, like Charleston’s marshes, is messy. It’s equal parts stunning sunsets and sticky mosquito bites. Some moments are Instagram-worthy; others leave you wondering if it’s all worth it. (Spoiler alert: it is, but wear bug spray next time.)

The beauty of Charleston’s marshlands taught me that perfection isn’t the goal—in life, love, or otherwise. The goal is to appreciate the harmony that imperfect things can create. Some of the richest moments of connection come when we’re willing to wade into the messier parts of each other’s lives—because let’s face it: no one’s perfect.

Porch Swings, Sweet Tea, and Space to Breathe

One of my favorite things about Charleston is how life seems to slow down when you sit on a porch swing with a glass of iced tea. My grandmother called it “breathing space”—those moments when you’re not rushing off to do anything, and you can just exist, right where you are.

This particular lesson hit me hard after one too many whirlwind romances in my early twenties—the kind you jump into because “he’s just so exciting,” only to realize three months later that his idea of communication is liking your Instagram posts.

Charleston’s porch swings taught me to recognize the value of stillness. Sometimes, you need to stop chasing connections that move too fast and start finding the ones that feel like home. They might not come with fireworks, but they’ll come with peace. And let me tell you, peace is highly underrated.

Building Bridges

Every Charlestonian knows the iconic Ravenel Bridge—a stretch of gleaming white cables connecting the city to Mount Pleasant. I remember walking across it one morning at sunrise, the cool breeze carrying the scent of pluff mud (if you don’t know, it’s an acquired taste). That bridge, standing tall over the Cooper River, has always felt like a metaphor for love to me: a deliberate and daring act of connection.

Charleston taught me early on that relationships are built like bridges, one careful step at a time. Each conversation, shared secret, and vulnerable moment is another cable strung tight. Sure, bridges can be scary (ever been stuck in traffic on one during hurricane season?). But without them, we’d all just be islands, separated by oceans of misunderstanding.

Lessons to Carry

So, what can Charleston teach you about dating, love, and connection—even if you’ve never stepped foot in the South?

  • Embrace your rhythm: Every relationship is unique, so don’t force someone to dance to your beat—or change yours to match theirs. Find harmony instead.
  • Tell your story: Don’t be afraid to let people see the quirks, messiness, and beauty of who you are. That’s how connections deepen.
  • Learn from the marshes: Messiness isn’t something to fear. Wading into life’s imperfections can lead to some of its richest moments.
  • Value the porch swings: If something feels peaceful and steady, don’t dismiss it. Stillness is often where the magic happens.
  • Build like a bridge: Connection isn’t overnight. Put in the work and take the leap—it’s worth it.

The Lowcountry Legacy

Charleston isn’t perfect; no place is. But the city gave me my sense of self, my rhythm, and my belief in the beautiful complexity of connection. Whether I’m on a first date at a too-loud coffee shop or celebrating my parents’ 35th wedding anniversary under a live oak, I carry her lessons with me.

If love is a place, then Charleston will always be mine. A little messy, a little slow, but brimming with soul—and always worth the wait.