Sometimes, life delivers lessons when you least expect them. For me, the pivotal moment that shaped my perspective on relationships happened unexpectedly one rainy Vancouver evening, involving a mismatched dating profile, a lukewarm oat milk latte, and an overzealous Labradoodle named Pancake.

The Coffee Date That Wasn’t (But Kind of Was)

Let me set the scene: I had just reentered the wild world of online dating after reluctantly saying goodbye to a somewhat comfortable (read: stagnantly boring) two-year relationship. This was peak Vancouver—grey skies, light drizzle, the faint scent of seaweed on the breeze. Feeling optimistic but cautious, I downloaded the latest app on everyone’s lips, filled out the profile with my best blend of witty-insightful-chill, and braced myself.

Enter Elijah. His profile had me at “compulsively orders fries for the table.” He loved kayaking in Deep Cove, made self-deprecating jokes about his failed attempts at making sourdough during lockdown, and looked more outdoorsy-hot than outdoorsy-intimidating in his photos. His first message said, “You seem just the right amount of weird. Coffee?” And I, feeling just the right amount of brave, said yes.

What followed was the most awkward semi-date of my life.

The first red flag: He brought his dog, Pancake, without warning. Don’t get me wrong—I’m a dog person. But Pancake was a very wet and very energetic Labradoodle who almost took me out like a linebacker the moment I got out of my car. My artistic attempt at a bangs-forward hair day? Gone. My carefully planned outfit? Covered in damp paw prints before we even reached the café door.

The second red flag: Elijah was… not the guy on his profile. Literally. I mean, his name was still Elijah, and yes, he did have a dog named Pancake, but he looked about five years older, mumbled like he’d forgotten human interaction was a thing, and dropped three different complaints about Vancouver real estate within the first ten minutes. Not exactly the fries-for-the-table energy I’d imagined.

When Every Swipe Feels the Same

After 45 minutes of “conversation” (me: asking open-ended questions; Elijah: nodding while trying to stop Pancake from snatching a croissant out of someone else’s hand), I headed home. At first, I was just annoyed. I’d wasted a rainy evening when I could’ve been watching reruns of Schitt’s Creek for the fiftieth time. But as I kicked off my mud-splattered boots and flopped onto my couch with a bowl of soup, the moment hit me: I’d brought this on myself.

Here’s the thing. My dating profile was… fine. A mosaic of decent photos from weekend hikes, a vague “love exploring new places and trying weird foods,” and the obligatory swipe-right-if-you-like-puns humor. Basically, a mildly filtered version of myself that could pass as relatable without revealing too much. But the truth is, it wasn’t really me. Not all of me, anyway—not the parts that truly mattered.

The Moment Everything Changed

That night wasn’t just an awkward coffee date. It was the nudge I needed to stop treating my dating life as a side project and start showing up as my whole self—messy edges, dog-less laps, and all. I realized my digital presence wasn’t just attracting the wrong kind of guy; it was keeping people from truly seeing me. So I grabbed my laptop, opened my dating profile, and dove in.

Here’s what I learned:

1. Your Photos Are the Opening Act, and Honesty’s the Only Style That Works

Let’s start with the elephant in the room—or the Labradoodle on the leash. People trust what they see, so you need photos that reflect your current life, not a version from three years ago when you still made it to yoga every Wednesday. That’s not just fair to your date; it’s fair to yourself.

I swapped out my “prettiest” (but totally staged) Instagram-worthy selfies for real photos that screamed me. You’ll find unedited snippets: me at a beach cleanup chasing a piece of driftwood, coffee in one hand and the other balancing my slightly crooked sunglasses after a mishap with the wind. Less polished, but more accurate.

Pro tip: Include a mix of solo shots (showing your interests) and candid ones where friends or family shine through. If you’re someone who snacks on spicy shrimp crackers at 11 p.m., show us the bag crumbs!

2. Give Your Bio a Personality Upgrade

The problem with “I love travel and live music” is that… almost everyone loves travel and live music. Generic bios signal no personality—like ordering unsalted plain fries instead of truffle-parmesan. The key is to get specific enough that people feel connected—ideally to YOU.

I reimagined mine with real quirks: “Binge-watched all of The Great British Bake-Off but still can’t figure out how to cream butter properly,” and “Will unashamedly cry during Pixar movies.” Authenticity became the magic sauce to weed out the mediocre matches and find those who’d double-tap my particular weirdness.

3. Don’t Just Say, Show (With Stories!)

Instead of saying “I like the outdoors,” I painted a picture: “Once snuck off to Tofino for the weekend, just to watch the waves and eat too much fish and chips. Worth every calorie.” It’s a slice of my life, showing—not telling—what I value.

If your bio is a plate of linguine, the details are Parmesan: small, but they make everything better. Sprinkle that stuff everywhere.

4. Filters Are for Photos—Not for Selecting People

It’s tempting to treat dating like assembling a Build-A-Bear: tick a box for “5’11” or taller” here, swipe left if there’s a shirtless gym mirror selfie there. But filters can block your connection radar. Some of my favorite Vancouver stories—the secondhand bookstore meet-up, the mural walk along Main Street—happened with people who might not have checked all the “right” boxes on an app.

Does this mean ignoring red flags? Obviously not—hello, Elijah. But it’s about staying open to stories that don’t start the way you expected.

5. Be the Energy You Want to Attract

One hard truth Pancake taught me: I’d become too passive about dating. My profile was a placeholder; I wasn’t actually putting myself out there as someone ready to meet people who genuinely saw me. So I reframed things: What would a potential match see if they opened my profile in two seconds? Lackluster effort attracts lackluster vibes.

I reset my intention—not to “find someone” right away, but to enjoy the process and let my real vibe shine, whether we met at a microbrewery or through mutual love of sushi memes on Twitter.

Permission to Pivot (And Laugh About It)

The truth is, we all deserve the kind of connections where we fall into easy laughter and maybe go halfsies on a fry order without thinking twice. But to find that, we’ve got to do a little work upfront—by showing up authentically, in a way that feels real for us.

Yes, Elijah might’ve been a disaster date. But Pancake’s manic paw prints stained more than my jacket; they rewrote how I approached dating altogether. Sometimes, it takes stepping ankle-deep in metaphorical mud to see where you’ve been too cautious. Embrace your quirks, rewrite your story, and let the world love you—chaos, rain, and all.