If you’ve ever spent a Sunday afternoon nestled on the couch watching a coming-of-age movie and thought, “I could write something better about my life,” then you’re in good company. Personally? I’ve spent an alarming number of hours picturing what my life would look like on the big screen. Desert sunsets sweeping across the opening credits, a twinkling modern country soundtrack, the occasional golf cart chase through suburbia—the works.

Hypothetical though it may be, casting my life as a movie has become an oddly cathartic exercise. It’s forced me to reflect on what (and who) has truly shaped me, and surprisingly, it’s taught me a thing or two about life, love, and the kind of leading man I’d aim to be if Hollywood came calling. Spoiler alert: I’m no Ryan Gosling, but hey, we all bring something to the table.

Let’s make the popcorn. Here’s how the casting call for the movie of my life shakes out.

Act I: The Young Dreamer

Casting Nate as a Teenager: Timothée Chalamet—but, like, desert version.

You know the type: scrawny enough to watch a mild breeze blow him backwards, staring off at distant horizons like there’s poetry hidden over the hill. Growing up as a suburban kid with access to eternity-spanning desert views, I was an idealistic, introspective dreamer with big plans. But let’s not romanticize too much—I also routinely embarrassed myself trying to impress girls in high school with golf stories. (Golf. Stories. Why?)

In our story’s opening credits, you’d catch me taking chances I wasn’t ready for. Like the time I spruced up for a Valentine’s date with an ironic bolo tie (it wasn’t ironic). Or the day I stood outside school, offering a girl my best “mysterious brooding desert guy” smile, only to walk smack into a cactus while waving at her. Timothée’s soft awkwardness would nail this role, bolos and all.

Takeaway: The early chapters of any story are usually a mess—awkwardness is inevitable. The real question is, are you brave enough to laugh at it?

Act II: The Family Drama

Casting My Parents: Diane Keaton and Steve Martin, the eternal power couple of dad jokes and inspirational quotes.

Cue the intergenerational dynamic. My parents made it their life’s mission to nurture two things in me: 1) the entrepreneurial spirit, and 2) an “always show up for others” mindset. If Diane Keaton plays my mom, she’s the behind-the-scenes producer asking if I’ve drafted my five-year plan while packing enough aloe vera for a month’s worth of Sonoran hikes. Steve Martin, as my dad, is cracking corny jokes while sneaking sage life advice under the radar.

The standout scene? Me, post high school breakup, sitting at our breakfast bar eating stale tortilla chips and sulking. Dad slides over and casually says, “When you meet the right person, son, you’ll know because you won’t have to look for signs—they show up themselves.” (Was this wisdom, or a thinly veiled jab at my bad habit of reading too much into texts? Unclear.)

Takeaway: You don’t always realize what your family is teaching you until later. It’s probably good to listen the first time.

Act III: The Romantic Interest(s)

Casting “Her": Taylor Russell meets Blake Lively energy. Thoughtful, sharp, unexpectedly funny.

One thing I’ve learned is every great life movie needs at least one good meet-cute. Picture this: I’m staring at a refrigerator in the Phoenix Whole Foods, frozen between two kombucha flavors. A sharp voice behind me goes, “Just grab the ginger one—it’s the superior choice.” She’s bold. Mysterious. Combative over tea. I’m smitten.

Now, I’ve been lucky (before and after that imaginary kombucha showdown) to meet incredible women who’ve challenged me, taught me, and, at times, called me out when I insisted barbecued chicken pizza was a “very highbrow date idea.” Watching yourself fall short in love and then nobly rally? That’s prime movie material. And it almost always involves both humor and humility.

Takeaway: The right people don’t just tell you how great you are—they show you where you need to grow, and they make it feel worth the effort.

Act IV: The Comic Relief

Casting My Best Friend: Paul Rudd. No explanation needed.

Every “hero” needs their comedic foil, and my best buddy’s the unsung joker keeping the plot from taking itself too seriously. From our college days of “networking” (read: showing up to mixers for the free appetizers) to his foolproof advice to “just wear a plain T-shirt to look hot on dates,” this character exists to remind me life’s too short to overthink.

Biggest laugh: Twelve years of friendship, and he still teases me about my habit of casually throwing “desert aesthetics” into conversation, as if anyone knows or cares what that actually means. The lesson stuck: Don’t get too caught up in appearances. Be real. Like, sometimes-pizza-sauce-on-your-shirt level real.

Takeaway: Life’s scenery is better when you’ve got someone to laugh with. Find that person and keep them close. (Oh, and wear the plain T-shirt.)

Act V: The Comeback

Casting Nate Today: A mix of Michael B. Jordan’s grit and Jake Johnson’s everyman charm—with less six-pack, more Chipotle rewards points.

By Act V, I’ve evolved a bit. I take relationships more seriously, yes, but also myself less seriously. I’ve learned that love doesn’t always look like desert romances or golf-cart races (although I maintain that’s a seriously underrated chase scene idea). It looks like showing up every day, learning from the hard chapters, and throwing yourself into life—even when dusty heartbreak or rejection lingers.

If you’re still reading, here’s what I hope you take with you: Whether you’re casting your own movie or crafting your real-life story, remember that it’s the missteps, the sidekicks, and the last-minute plot twists that make it both frustrating... and fantastic.

Takeaway: Trust the process—your process. Even the awkward cacti-in-your-pants moments have a way of making the bigger story matter.

Curtain Call

Here’s the beauty of framing your life as a movie: no one else gets to roll the credits on your behalf. Sure, there will be flops (trust me, some of my early-date choices belong in a blooper reel), but your life’s film is ultimately your story to shape. So cast your loved ones carefully, write scenes that challenge you, and go all-in on the soundtrack.

After all, every leading character has to start somewhere—bolo ties and all.