It was the summer I learned to smile through my teeth—not the polite, head-tilt kind of grin Southerners flash at church potlucks, but the kind you give when you’re trying not to cry in public. I’d sat across from my now-ex-boyfriend in one of those dimly lit bars where drinks come in Mason jars, and people say things like "artisanal ice cubes" without a hint of irony. And just like that, over a plate of fried pickles, he told me he couldn’t "see a future with us."

Apparently, he could see a future, just not one where my curly hair clogged the shower drain or my morning playlists ruined his vibe. And as polite Southern women are conditioned to do, I nodded, graciously sipped my overpriced cocktail, and vowed to never set foot in a Mason jar bar again (a vow I absolutely broke two weeks later). That conversation—a fried-pickle epiphany, if you will—was the moment everything changed. It was the catalyst that ultimately taught me something I didn’t even know I needed: how to show up for myself, unapologetically, even in spaces like online dating.

Swipe Right on Reinvention

Post-breakup Carrie wasn’t exactly zesting lemons and turning them into metaphorical lemonade. I was more of a “watch reruns of Parks and Recreation in my bathrobe” kind of girl at first. But after weeks of Leslie Knope pep talks and a little long-overdue introspection, I realized I had an even bigger issue than my broken heart: I had no idea how I wanted to present myself. People tell you to just "be yourself" when you're dating, but if you’ve ever spent hours staring at an online dating profile, you'll know: being yourself is HARD when you’ve got to summarize a whole human existence into three photos and 300 characters.

So, I started asking myself the questions we so often avoid in real life: Who am I? What do I actually want? And is liking "long walks on the beach" a requirement for dating apps, or can I finally admit I’m more of a “long sits on the porch with iced tea” kind of gal? Spoiler: you can. And this truth-telling exercise made me realize something fundamental: dating apps aren’t just about finding matches—they’re about first matching with yourself.

The 3 P’s of an Authentic Dating Profile: Polished, Personal, Playful

Listen, no one’s expecting you to write the next great American novel in your dating bio, but slapping “I’m just here for the pizza” probably isn’t summoning your person either. After my pickle-prompted reawakening, I developed a little system I call the 3 P’s of profile success: Polished, Personal, and Playful. Let me break it down for you.

  1. Polished
    No, I’m not saying you need to hire a professional headshot photographer (although good lighting doesn’t hurt). I’m talking about putting a pinch of thought into your “front porch to the world.” Choose photos where you look like...well, YOU. That means showing off your favorite hobbies or places where you’re genuinely happy—not just posting a hyper-filtered selfie where your dog looks more like Bigfoot lurking in the corner.

Pro tip: Include at least one clear face shot, one full-body pic, and one where you’re doing something you love. Bonus points if we can actually see your eyes—no one fell in love via mirrored aviators.

  1. Personal
    Let’s be honest—dating bios can feel like reading the same book over and over. ("I’m looking for a partner in crime. I’ll fall for your dog before I fall for you. Can’t live without my morning coffee.") Instead, try cutting through the noise with one or two vivid specifics. Love road trips? Swap out “I love to travel” for “Last year, I got lost on my way to Dollywood, and now it’s my favorite story to tell.” Be the kind of person who'd make their profile fun even to strangers you'll never match with.

  2. Playful
    Let a little personality peek through. Humor goes a long way in these Tinder-and-bumble-ridden streets, y’all. My bio, for instance, borrowed heavily from the truths I’d learned in Montgomery: “Southern accent included for free. Weaknesses include bookstores, live music, and saying yes to buying more plants than I need.” Quirky? Maybe. But I figured, why not let someone meet the real me (and my overwatered fern problem) right off the bat?

Lessons in Rejections (and Ghosts With No Southern Manners)

Here’s the truth: No matter how polished, personal, and playful your dating profile is, you’ll likely still encounter a rogue ghoster, a chronic over-sharer, or someone whose conversational skills peaked during the MySpace era. And while I can’t promise you’ll never furiously delete an app after a particularly bad interaction, I can promise you’ll start rethinking rejection in a way that feels less...personal.

A canceled date doesn’t mean you’re unlovable. A terrible two-line opening message doesn’t negate the possibility of a real connection. And—this one took me a while—even when someone loses interest midway through texting, it’s not necessarily a reflection of you. The apps can be brutal, but we can survive them. There’s something freeing about realizing what works for you, what doesn’t, and what absolutely won’t. And it starts with embracing your limits like the self-aware queen (or king, or nonbinary monarch) that you are.

Carrying the South With Me: A Takeaway Worth Sharing

I’ve spent enough years navigating Southern social cues—announcing I’m “fixin' to leave” when I mean “in an hour,” knowing the correct level of friendship required to request sugar from a neighbor—to understand that relationships and dating are, at their core, about storytelling. Your profile, your texts, even the way you carry yourself on first dates—it’s all a chance to tell your story in a way only YOU can.

I’m not the same person I was the night I picked at fried pickles and felt my heart sink to my toes, wondering if I’d ever figure out the magic of a lasting connection. But I am someone who learned the art of showing up: on apps, on coffee dates, and most importantly, in my own story—and that’s a moment that will always mean everything to me.

So, if you’re staring at the blinking cursor in your dating bio right now, feeling like you’ve got writer’s block about your own life, start here: What’s one thing about you that always makes you smile? Write it down—you’ve got this. Because if I’ve learned anything from fried-pickle heartbreak, porch swings, and late-night swiping, it’s this: When it comes to love, the best moments start with showing up fully as yourself—Mason jar bars optional.