The Moment That Changed Everything

There’s a weird kind of clarity you get when holding a dead lobster. Stick with me here, okay?

It was a summer afternoon in La Jolla, the kind of day where the Pacific sparkled like a thousand tiny mirrors, and I was ankle-deep in a tidepool with my mom. She held a clipboard, jotting down notes about shellfish populations while I was furiously trying to pluck a spiky sea urchin from the rocks (spoiler: they’re stubborn little guys). Then I saw it—a lobster, belly-up, its antennae frozen mid-sway.

"Poor thing," I said, cradling it as carefully as a kid cradles something soggy they just found in a parking lot. My mom glanced at me the way moms do when they know life is about to teach you a lesson.

“That lobster’s part of the story too,” she said cryptically, returning to her clipboard.

I didn’t know it then, but that soggy lobster would set the tone for a realization that would shape my life: Every story, no matter how small or mangled or unexpectedly crustacean-y, matters. Including yours.

The Lobster-Inspired Rollercoaster of My Dating Life

Flash forward 15 years, and I was holding something just as lifeless: my online dating profile.

Let me tell you—I grew up chasing sea turtles and studying kelp. Interpretation: I was not the girl who thought “dating apps” and “romance” should share the same sentence. But here I was, swiping to the sound of Netflix humming in the background and wondering why all the profiles felt like lukewarm toast. Bland whole-grain toast. No butter. No jam. No personality.

And then it hit me—these profiles were missing the lobster. (Don’t squint, I promise it makes sense.) Everyone was playing it safe, putting up the human equivalent of laminated resumes with nothing real behind them. No curious details. No spark. Just the digital version of tumbleweed.

But hey, I’d dealt with dead lobsters. I could handle this. So, I challenged myself to stop swiping aimlessly and start building something real—even if it meant my own profile needed a major overhaul.

Step 1: Your Profile Needs a Pop (And I Don’t Mean Champagne)

Every tidepool has its hidden gems—you just have to look a little closer. Your dating profile is no different. Here’s your job: become a human tidepool, brimming with personality and intrigue.

  • Start With a Hook: Opening your bio with “Adventurer, foodie, and Netflix enthusiast” is fine, but it’s also like saying you enjoy breathing oxygen. Instead, jump in with something specific that demands attention.
    Think: “I once panic-paddled a kayak away from a sea lion. Turns out, they’re not always cute.”

  • Name Your Lobster: Okay, not literally, but pick a moment or detail about you that’s quirky enough to stand out. For me? “Ask me about the time a jellyfish hitchhiked in my swimsuit.” It became a conversation starter every single time.

  • Be Honest, But Keep It Light: This isn’t “The Bachelor.” You don’t need a dramatic outpouring of unfiltered truths. Aim for moments of authenticity without spilling your entire diary. For example: “Recovering perfectionist. Learning to enjoy sunsets without counting the clouds.”

Step 2: Pictures Speak Louder Than Emojis

Look, choosing your Tinder pics isn’t on par with solving climate change, but one wrong move can derail your chances faster than texting “wyd” at 3 a.m.

  • Avoid the Instagram Audit: That perfectly filtered shot of you sipping a coconut in Bali is gorgeous, sure, but if your entire profile looks like a travel influencer highlight reel, it feels fueled by FOMO, not personality. Balance it with something real, like you laughing uncontrollably at a backyard BBQ.

  • Don’t Overthink It: At least one photo should answer the question, “What’s it like to date you?” Whether that’s you hiking through the woods, trying new recipes in the kitchen, or (inexplicably) dressed as a panda for Halloween, show a sliver of your everyday reality.

Step 3: The Thing About Messaging...

You know that moment in rom-coms where the girl sends some flirty but overly clever text, then immediately spirals into a panic? Yeah, that’s me, too. But here’s the thing: Messaging doesn’t have to feel like auditioning for a reboot of Bridgerton.

  • Ditch the One-Word Openers: “Hey” is the online dating equivalent of tossing a breadcrumb into the ocean and hoping for sushi. Be specific. Reference their profile and share something that connects—not their looks, but their quirks. For example: “I have so many questions about your corgi wearing sunglasses. Start with: What’s his name?”

  • Be Yourself, Minus the Food References: I don’t know who decided “I love tacos” needed to become a sacred dating personality trait, but folks, it’s time to move on. Go deeper. Like, “I grew up surfing and once fell asleep on my board. Got the sunburn to prove it.” (True story for a friend... definitely not me.)

But Really, It’s About Being Seen

The moment that changed everything in my dating life wasn’t the lobster itself—or even the realization that "lobster" could have metaphoric undertones. It came when I stopped hiding behind the generic and embraced me.

The me who sometimes trips over beach rocks while trying to look cool. Who once made a mixtape for a crush (Jack Johnson, naturally) and thought it was a solid life strategy. Who treats every connection like it’s as unique as the tidepools I grew up exploring.

Online dating—and dating in general—gets a bad rap for being shallow. But I’ve discovered that when you lead with honesty, curiosity, and just a pinch of playfulness, it changes everything.

So, What’s Your Lobster?

That little lobster in La Jolla taught me this: Your quirks are stories. Your stories are connections. And your connections are what make life unforgettable.

Whether you’re swiping left, right, or nervously typing out a first message, your superpower is being you. Because let’s face it—dating is like digging through tidepools. Messy, unpredictable, sometimes awkward. But if you embrace the mess, you just might discover something extraordinary.

And hey, if all else fails, start with: “What’s the most random animal you’ve ever held?” It worked for me.

You’ve got this. Now get out there and make some waves.