The Moment Everything Changed: How I Stopped Sabotaging My Love Life and Learned to Show Up as Myself

There’s a scene in Hitch—that iconic rom-com where Will Smith’s job is helping the hopelessly awkward land the loves of their lives—where he warns against dancing like a lunatic. Keep it simple, he says: "This is where you live." It’s a hilarious cliché, sure, but it hits hard because we’ve all had those moments: trying too hard, convinced we have to perform to be seen. I lived in that energy for years. Then one day, I forgot to perform. And for the first time in my life? It changed everything.

Let me set the stage: I was 29 years old, single, and spectacularly bad at dating. This wasn’t a case of, “Oh no, I didn’t get a second date.” It was the kind of awkward-chaotic bad that’d make for TikToks with millions of views. My worst offense was over-editing myself. I’d show up to dates pretending to be some peak-romantic-comedy version of me: a little too witty, a little too polished, a little too… not me. It was exhausting—and didn’t work. But one night in Chicago, I stumbled into something unexpected that made me rethink my entire approach—and ultimately my relationship with myself.

Love in the Time of Bad Wi-Fi

It all started with a dating app. (Of course it did, because where else would a semi-chaotic Cuban boy in the Frozen Midwestern Tundra find love?) I matched with someone during a particularly bad snowstorm—a Puerto Rican grad student named Sara who seemed way out of my league. Charming smile, great taste in books, and the kind of warm sense of humor that leapt off the screen. Clearly, she was looking for someone deep. Naturally, I panicked.

In true Martin fashion, I overprepared. I re-read all those self-discovery books I hadn’t even finished the first time. I Googled “intellectual-but-funny pick-up lines” (spoiler: they do not exist). I pre-planned the date so perfectly, it rivaled a rom-com montage—complete with a café that had moody lighting and decent Cuban coffee to make me feel at home.

And then it snowed. Not normal, Midwest snow—this was parental-crisis caliente-chocolate-levels of snow. The city practically froze in place. I didn’t know whether to cancel and reschedule or prove I could brave it to meet her. Sara? She didn’t flinch. Her message to me was simple: “Well, unless you have a sled, it looks like this date’s moving to FaceTime.”

The FaceTime Flop That Worked

Let me tell you something: there’s no performance in FaceTime. Your lighting is questionable, you’ve got no witty entrances, and your internet connection is as reliable as teen-heartbreak playlists. I was caught off guard—sitting there in sweats and my grandma’s well-loved quilt artlessly draped across my lap. No fancy outfit or cool guy persona. Just me, the grainy digital version.

For the first time, I stopped trying to be perfect and just… showed up. I hadn’t groomed my “date-night” beard. My jokes were lame because I wasn’t rehearsed. I told her about growing up in Miami and commuting between palms and politics. She told me about San Juan and her favorite salsa bar. We swapped stories about how both of our grandmothers had that one pan—the one everyone swore made food taste better. We laughed, talked awkwardly over one another, and at one point, my Abuelo started yelling at a Telemundo telenovela in the background. She didn’t mind. In fact, she wanted to know what the drama was about.

For two hours, I realized something I’d been ignoring for far too long: the “unpolished” me could still connect with someone. For the first time, I wasn’t worrying about how to impress—I was just present.

What FaceTime Taught Me About Dating Profiles

Okay, so most “pivotal moments” don’t happen in your living room with frizzy Wi-Fi vibes. But the takeaway here is way bigger than one snowy night. Sara and I didn’t end up as soulmates, but that conversation forced me to examine how I was showing up—not just on dates but even before they started.

This realization also changed the way I approached my dating profile. Before, my bio looked like I’d applied for a job in “Extreme Ambition With a Side of Bougie Nerd.” I listed all the “right” facts—college degrees, favorite books—and no personality. Why? Because I wanted to seem... impressive, I guess. What I learned from Sara is that I didn’t need bells, whistles, or mists of mystery. I needed honesty.

If that resonates, here’s how you can level up your profile, too:

  1. Say Something Real (And Specific): Quit the James Bond act. Replace “I love food” with “I’d cut someone to find Miami-quality croquetas in X city.” Be vivid. Be you. They’ll either vibe or they won’t, and trust me—you don’t want someone who doesn’t vibe with croquettes.

  2. Show Your Weird Side: Love translating song lyrics into memes? Great. Incorporate it, even if you’re afraid it’s niche. Sara loved that I debated whether “Suavemente” was the best karaoke song or a terrible choice—it made me stand out.

  3. Skip the Self-Promotion (Mostly): Your profile needs charm, not bullet points. Think a light-hearted TED Talk about why Dad jokes are your weakness. Don’t just list hobbies, describe how they fit into your life. It feels more like you, less like a résumé.

  4. Update Your Photos Like a Friend Would: You’re more than one good angle! Show range: playful, polished, quirky. (Pro tip—at least 1 photo where you’re clearly not holding the flash for dear life. This isn’t 2007 MySpace.)

  5. Ask Yourself This One Question: Does your bio reflect YOU or the version you wish you were? Hint: You’re more interesting than your over-polished alter ego anyway.

From Polished to Present

That FaceTime date didn’t end in cinematic love, but it gave me something much more transformative: the realization that showing my true self—even if that means sweating through nerve-wracking conversations or guffawing at my own bad jokes—is better than trying to “win” at dating. Because you’re not selling a product, you’re asking someone to meet the real you.

So let go of the over-rehearsed zingers. Post the photo where your hair isn’t perfect but your laugh is real. And ditch the “cool and distant” act for a full-hearted “This is me.”

Because here’s the thing: The right person for you isn’t looking for perfect. They’re looking for the type of flawed, authentic joy that can connect through a buffer-ridden Wi-Fi call.

And when you let yourself be just that, you might be surprised—one snowy FaceTime date at a time—by the moments that change everything.