Have You Ever Fallen in Love with a Parking Lot? Because I Did.
It takes a lot to make me cry. Growing up surrounded by tall lakeside pines and the seemingly endless wilderness of Idaho, I’ve always had a steady tether to the natural world. It’s hard to feel overly dramatic about life’s ups and downs when you can hike to the top of a ridge and let the wind swallow you whole. But the one thing that can still sneak up on me? Inspiration—particularly, the kind that comes from the most unexpected places.
Like a parking lot.
To be fair, it was no ordinary parking lot. This one overlooked one of the most pristine mountain lakes I’ve ever seen. It was framed by jagged peaks reflected in water so still it looked like a mirror, the kind of place where time feels irrelevant, and everything heavy just floats away. I pulled into the lot on a road trip gone slightly off-course—not a metaphor, for once. I’d misread the directions and ended up at this random turnout where the only other structures in sight were a wooden picnic table and a blue porta-potty that had clearly survived one PNW winter too many.
And yet, in that moment, my messy dating life finally started to make sense.
Detours, Romantic and Otherwise
Here’s the thing about nature—and relationships, for that matter. You think you’ve got a plan: a trail to follow, a summit to reach, or a significant other to make harmonious Sunday Costco runs with. But then the clouds roll in, the GPS reroutes, or that “perfect” relationship turns out to be about as secure as a stack of Jenga blocks on a kayak. Detours happen.
Half the time we resent them. We groan when the unexpected shows up, whether it’s a flat tire or a breakup text that starts with “We need to talk.” But what I’ve learned from years exploring both watersheds and relationships is that detours can also lead us somewhere better. They can leave us breathless, amazed, and clearer on what really matters—if, of course, we pull over, take a look around, and pay attention.
That parking lot? It was my pull-over moment. My romantic life, at the time, resembled a poorly curated mixtape: a little angsty, a little embarrassing, and entirely too reliant on songs about staying with the wrong person out of nostalgia. I was coming out of a long-term relationship that ended in one of those gray zones where nobody’s technically the bad guy, but you both quietly realize you’re now trading more sighs than sparks. Still, the uncertainty lingered, and I spent months wondering: Was that really a dead end? Or did I just quit too soon?
Reflections on Still Water
Standing in that parking lot, staring out across the lake, I noticed something strange. The longer I looked at the reflection of the peaks, the harder it was to tell where the mountain ended and its mirror began. And somewhere between marveling at nature’s symmetry and swatting away mosquitos roughly the size of cigarette lighters, it hit me: most bad relationships feel just like this.
They blur the line between who you are and who you’re trying to be to make things work. I’d spent years trying to soften my sharp edges—to be less opinionated, less independent, less me—so the person I was with would stay comfortable. I wasn’t just bending; I was practically shape-shifting to fit into a dynamic that no longer served me, hoping that one forced compromise after another would save what inevitably wasn’t meant to be.
But the best connections, I realized, don’t require bending until you break. They don’t thrive on reflections of who someone thinks you should be. They hold space for you to be whole, messy, and brilliantly imperfect—and they do so without asking you to trade in the things that make you feel like yourself.
Romantic Lessons from a Misguided Exit
If you, too, have ever ignored your intuition for the sake of What Could Be, here are a few truths I pulled from that lakeside epiphany. Think of them as little trail markers for navigating the winding paths of connection:
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Your Authentic Self is Non-Negotiable.
Relationships worth their weight feel like coming home, not getting lost. If you’re constantly over-editing yourself, it’s time to reassess. Does this person know the real you—the one who cries during Pixar movies or has a weirdly niche knowledge of Neil Young’s discography? If not, the connection might be rooted in convenience, not authenticity. -
Lastly Doesn’t Mean Forever.
Long-term doesn’t always mean successful. Sometimes a relationship’s purpose isn’t to last forever—it’s to teach you more about what won’t work, sharpening your sense of what you truly deserve. -
Detours Are Often the Main Event.
Sometimes what feels like a misstep turns into exactly what you needed. Every wrong turn, awkward first date, or even mortifying breakup story (looking at you, guy who ghosted mid-dinner) can nudge you closer to where you’re meant to be. The key is to keep moving forward, even when the road feels hazy. -
It’s Okay to Pull Over.
Literally and metaphorically. Whether it’s a solo hike to clear your head after a breakup or permission to postpone “finding the one,” there’s strength in pausing when things feel overwhelming. Sitting with your discomfort might just yield surprising clarity.
How a Parking Lot Saved My Sense of Self
That accidental stop became the best part of my entire trip, and I think about it often, especially when life or love feels disorienting. What started as frustration led me to a quiet moment of reflection—both figuratively and literally.
And from that day forward, I started to approach connections differently. I ditched the habit of shrinking myself to fit anyone else’s expectations. I stopped trying to orchestrate the “perfect” scenario and learned to embrace relationships like the road trips they are: thrilling, unpredictable, sometimes maddening, and most definitely better with snacks. (Popcorn counts as emotional support food. Don’t argue with me on this.)
Now, when things go off-course—whether it’s a canceled date or a season of singledom—I ask myself: What if this is leading to something better? Something that brings me closer to my true self, whether it’s a person, an experience, or even just a really great parking lot view?
The Takeaway
Inspiration doesn’t always arrive where you expect it, but that’s part of the magic. Sometimes it sneaks up on you when you’re sweaty, bug-bitten, and rethinking your life in the shadow of towering granite peaks. Sometimes it shows up in wayward places to remind you to pause, to reflect, or simply to wander off the beaten path.
So the next time you find yourself on a detour—romantic, scenic, or otherwise—don’t fight it. Stop the car, breathe in the moment, and maybe, just maybe, let yourself fall in love with wherever you are.
