I met him on a late September afternoon, the kind that teeters between brisk and balmy, when Bar Harbor locals start quietly reclaiming the town from summer tourists. I was perched on a granite outcrop at Sand Beach, my book abandoned beside me as I squinted at the water. He popped into my peripheral vision like a particularly enthusiastic puffin, backpack slung over one shoulder and a grin that seemed to say he already knew the punchline to a joke I hadn’t heard yet.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” he called out, but before I could respond, he added, “Although, technically, every day’s beautiful if you know where to look.”

Cheesy? Sure. But I was intrigued.

By the time he wandered off an hour later, his footprints vanishing in the wet sand, I wasn’t just reconsidering the scenery—I was reconsidering myself. Happily, his parting wisdom stuck with me longer than any fleeting flirtation, and it’s something I carry into every relationship, whether it’s with Maine’s craggy coast or another person. Here's what that stranger taught me and how it’s since shaped my life.

Start Where You Are

It turned out the puffin-like stranger and I had more in common than I expected. Like me, he grew up near the ocean—though his "ocean" looked a lot more like the turquoise waters of Australia than the fog-kissed gray Atlantic I know and love. He'd traveled over three continents in the past year, hiking mountain ranges and kayaking fjords, which made my Maine-born, Maine-bred existence feel a tad, well, uneventful.

As if reading my mind, he chuckled and said, “You don’t need to go far to see something extraordinary. The rarest stuff is always closest, if you pay attention.”

I’ve spent my entire life around Acadia—a national park so stunning that tourists travel thousands of miles to see it. But somewhere along the way, I’d stopped seeing its magic. How often do we do that in relationships, too? We focus on what we’re not—more attractive, more exciting, more whatever—forgetting the wonder of what we already bring to the proverbial table.

In dating and life: Lean into what’s already in your backyard. Start exactly where you are, even if “where you are” feels familiar or less-than-flashy. Chances are, someone else finds it dazzling.

Ask (Better) Questions

My Australian acquaintance had a knack for quirky, thoughtful questions—not the small talk fluff you suffer through at bad Tinder dates or work mixers, but things with real substance. In the course of our conversation, he asked things like:

  • "If you could breathe underwater for one day, where’s the first place you’d go?"
  • "What’s the weirdest item you own that you’d save in a fire?"
  • "When did you last change your mind about something important?"

These weren’t flung out willy-nilly for the sake of banter. He listened. And that was the magic—he paid attention. The insight? If thoughtful curiosity can connect two strangers on a beach, imagine what it can do for a relationship.

Pro tip: Instead of sticking to surface-level conversations (“How’s your day?” “What’s your favorite pizza topping?”), get a little playful and intentional. Next time you’re on a date—romantic or otherwise—ask something unexpected. It’s in those left-field questions that you figure out who someone really is—or who they’re trying to become.

Don’t Wait for Perfect Timing (Hint: It Doesn’t Exist)

Let me tell you: The weather that day wasn’t ideal for a long, pensive beach walk. A stiff breeze whipped chilly air across the dunes, the tide threatened to soak our feet with every step, and the sun kept ducking behind clouds as if playing some kind of cosmic hide-and-seek.

None of that deterred my new friend. “If you wait for perfect conditions, you’ll be waiting forever,” he said, gesturing to the slate-gray horizon. “Just go.”

He wasn’t wrong. In love, as in life, we often want to hold out for the “perfect” time—the perfect partner, perfect dress size, perfect paycheck, perfect moment when all the planets align and rainbows light up the skies. Except, spoiler: It never happens like that. Sometimes you just have to start, even if things feel messy or less-than-glamorous.

Got a crush on someone? Ask them out. Want to fix something in your current relationship? Talk about it now, not after your next self-help binge. Life doesn’t wait for you to tidy up. Neither should love.

Value the Temporary

Here’s the thing about strangers you meet on beaches: They rarely stick around. By the time I blinked, he was walking off into the mist, leaving nothing behind but a vague promise to “look me up if I’m ever in Sydney” and a small shell he’d pocketed from our walk as a parting gift. (Side note: I still have the shell.)

But here’s the real kicker—sometimes the most fleeting encounters leave the deepest impressions. Like those brief, fiery flings or friendships you have in college, some connections aren’t meant to last forever. Instead of mourning their inevitable end, cherish them for what they are: reminders that every interaction adds something unique to your tapestry.

In relationships, not everything is forever—nor should it be. Some people are meant to be your “forever people,” while others are delightful plot twists who teach you something, show you something, or simply share a moment that shifts your perspective. Lean into both.

Take the Adventure, but Keep Your Feet on the Ground

After he left, I spent another hour alone on the beach, thinking too hard about the fleeting nature of, well, everything. I’ll admit, meeting someone so free-spirited and untethered tempted me toward romantic notions of selling all my belongings and backpacking my way through Europe. But here's the thing: adventure doesn’t have to mean uprooting your whole life. It can be something small—a new hiking trail, a stargazing night, or even letting yourself fall for someone knowing it just might end in heartbreak.

The key is balance: ground yourself in what matters most, even as you chase the unknown. For me, that’s remembering no amount of wanderlust is worth losing what I love most about life in coastal Maine—the comfort of community, the rhythm of the seasons, and the beauty of the ordinary in daily rituals. When it comes to relationships, too, it’s about balancing dream-chasing with the reality of what makes your life rich and meaningful.

Conclusion: Lessons That Stick Around

That guy’s footprints have long since washed away, but his wisdom lives on, echoing through every shell-strewn trail and dusky shoreline I wander. He didn’t hand me all the answers—just a few breadcrumbs that have led to deeper connections and a little extra courage. Whether it’s hiking a new path, starting a conversation, or opening your heart to a someone new, those breadcrumbs remind me to keep moving forward.

So, next time you meet someone who crosses your path unexpectedly, lean in. Ask the questions, take the metaphorical (or literal) walk, and don’t assume it needs to lead anywhere specific. Sometimes, it’s not about the destination—it’s about what you pick up along the way.

Because if I’ve learned anything, it’s this: Every stranger has something to teach you. And if you’re lucky, you’ll walk away with a story. Or, if you’re really lucky, a shell.