There’s nothing particularly glamorous about growing up in a cabin on the shores of Lake Tahoe. My childhood was a patchwork of woodsmoke, ski wax, and mosquito bites. Summers meant hauling cousin-sized inner tubes to the water while winters meant digging the same cousin out of snowdrifts. My backyard (technically the Carson Range of the Sierra Nevadas) was nature’s version of a neon sign screaming, "Live a little." Frankly, I had no idea how much those early years—seemingly stitched together by pinecones and campfire marshmallows—would shape not only how I see the world but also how I navigate relationships.

Let me tell you—from someone who has both gotten frostbite and been burned by bad decisions—there’s something extraordinary about finding your rhythm in the orchestra of life and love. But here’s the spoiler: no one figures it out overnight. Figuring out who you are and how you connect with others is a journey, like hiking through switchback trails with promise at the summit. Here's how I went from blending into the trees to cultivating the confidence to stand out—and how you can do the same in your own relationships.

Humble Beginnings Are Underrated

Growing up amid outdoor enthusiasts and transient tourists taught me one thing: Everyone has a story, but most of us start with the same unimpressive prologue. My own story—awkward kid hauling firewood, no Wi-Fi, and way too many plaid hand-me-downs—was nothing remarkable. And for a long time, I let that narrative convince me I didn’t have much worth sharing.

But here’s the thing: The ordinary holds its own kind of magic. Take my parents, for example. My mom could concoct a full five-star meal using nothing but a crockpot and a questionable tin of pantry beans, while my dad crafted stories around the fireplace that could make even the most weary traveler stay an extra night. Those small acts of creativity and care weren’t showy, but they were full of heart. They were human.

When it comes to relationships, we tend to overcompensate, don’t we? Overproduced photos, overly wordy texts, dinner dates where both people perform instead of just being. What I’ve learned is that the most extraordinary connections are rooted in authenticity. Dare to embrace the "ordinary." That's where people begin to recognize the extraordinary spark of you.

Blaze Your Own Trail, But Bring Snacks

Somewhere between spelunking for fossils on family hikes and eventually logging 60-hour weeks with the U.S. Forest Service, I noticed that connection—whether with people or the world around us—requires intentional maintenance. You don't stumble into meaningful relationships the way you stumble into a patch of poison oak (an actual milestone from my first solo hike).

You have to plan, to pack the right tools—not unlike prepping for a backpacking trip. Here are a few lessons I’ve learned along the way about blazing your trail in relationships:

  • Map Your Terrain: Self-awareness is your compass. Before you dive into any relationship, take a moment to understand your terrain. Knowing your values, boundaries, and strengths isn’t about being egotistical; it’s about clarity. You wouldn’t hike without knowing whether there’s a river blocking your route, right? So why should dating be any different?
  • Carry Light, Share Freely: Emotional baggage is kind of like an overstuffed hiking pack—it drags you down. Bring what’s essential (honesty, empathy, a few bad dad jokes) and ditch the rest. The payoff? Less clutter means less weight slowing you down as you meet people who’ll share in carrying life’s joys and challenges.
  • Expect Switchbacks: The journey won’t always be straightforward. You might feel like you’re backtracking, making connections that don’t quite go somewhere, or treading old, familiar trails. That’s completely normal. Growth is rarely a linear walk in the park.

One summer, I tried fly fishing for the first time. It took hours in a freezing river before I landed a trout smaller than my hand. By the end of the day, I realized it wasn’t about the fish—but the patience (and occasional messy cast) it took to even try. Relationships are much the same. Play around, mess up, learn, and stay open.

Learn the Rules So You Can Break Them

Somewhere between those Davis creative writing seminars and my existential attempts to wrangle environmental data, I started noticing a pattern. Both ecosystems and relationships rely on balance. If one party starts hoarding attention—like a dominant tree shading out sunlight for saplings—the connection wilts.

Of course, balance doesn’t have to mean perfection. In fact, the best moments often come when you break the rules. Take the first (and most disastrous) date I’d ever been on: a girl I barely knew suggested wine tasting. I, being under 21 and embarrassingly uninformed, decided the least nerdy alternative was coffee tasting. The result? A caffeine-fueled debate about whether artisanal creamers constitute "flavor corruption" and one very jittery goodbye hug.

It was bad. It was unscripted. We didn’t last long. Yet in retrospect, I learned more in that one whirlwind conversation than I had in months of "safe" interactions: Humor dissolves tension faster than cream in coffee. Confidence wins over caution. And for heaven’s sake, smirk like you know you’re ridiculous.

Bring the Mountains with You

I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’ve never owned a suit. Anytime I trade fleece flannels for crisp shirts (usually as a wedding guest), my reflection feels like someone’s staged a National Geographic “human in captivity” special. Tahoe taught me to stay true to my roots—and, more importantly, that people notice when you’re comfortable in your own skin.

Whatever "mountain" you come from—small town, big family, quirky interest—don’t check it at the door when you’re stepping into relationships. In nature, diversity creates healthier ecosystems. The same is true for dating. Be the unapologetic botanist, choreographed dancer, pun enthusiast, or home-in-the-woods storyteller.

I’ve gone from blending into forest trails to sharing travel essays at literary festivals, from baby-smooth small talk to the rugged peaks of deeper connection. And none of it required me to trade my everyday authenticity for pretense.

Your Ordinary, Their Extraordinary

If anyone ever tells you you’re "too ordinary," remember this: Even mountains start from rock and dust. What makes you resonate like no one else are the steady layers of your personality—the grooves, wisdom, scars, and spark no one else could replicate.

It’s tempting to believe love exists only in big gestures or picture-perfect moments. But whether you’re making s’mores over a shared campfire or figuring out how on earth to assemble IKEA furniture with your partner, it’s the small acts of presence and patient courage that build extraordinary connections. Relationships, like nature itself, thrive in imperfection.

So lean in. Lead with your quirks, your quiet moments, and your loud laughs. Bring a bit of your “Tahoe,” whatever that may be, to the table. Because in a world full of skyscrapers and spotlights, it’s the down-to-earth moments—the sunrise over the water, the chirp of a text when you least expect it—that make all the difference.

And when you find someone who looks at your patchwork self like it’s the Sistine Chapel? Well, that’s when "ordinary" finds its extraordinary.