It was a rainy Tuesday in late October—the weather as moody as my playlist (think Brandi Carlile meets Aretha Franklin). I’d just settled onto my creaky couch with a mug of tea and the kind of heartbreak only Taylor Swift’s “All Too Well” could understand when I decided to give online dating another whirl. Auburn had been full of promising prospects in college, but back home in Montgomery? Let’s just say the pond isn’t nearly as stocked as the rom-coms promised it would be. But still, I’d signed up to give it my all. Or at least half, because the tea was decaf and my optimism wasn’t much stronger.

That night, with rain streaking my window and self-doubt buzzing like a leftover mosquito from summer, something happened. I had a revelation—or maybe a personal intervention, powered by sheer frustration with endless swipe fatigue. This was the moment that changed everything: I realized my dating profile didn’t read like me. It read like some overly curated version of me—someone who probably used “love long walks on the beach” unironically. It was exhausting to look at. I figured, if I was tired of her, how could anyone else not be?

So, I closed my laptop with dramatic flair (you’ve got to make your own drama sometimes) and resolved to shake things up—not just in dating but in how I approached being seen by others. What started with deleting my dating app photos that leaned into flattering angles and my “quirkiest” vacation outfits turned into a deep dive into authenticity. And boy, have I got some lessons to share.

Step 1: Get Real or Get Ghosted

You know that feeling when you’re trying to sound cool but end up coming across like someone auditioning for a toothpaste commercial? That was my entire profile before my moment of reckoning. I had lines about loving “sipping cabernet on the porch” (which, honestly, I’m more of a sweet tea with a splash of vodka gal) and how I’m “equally comfortable at a black-tie gala or a tailgate.” That version of me was designed to be palatable, appealing to everyone—and in doing so, connected with no one.

The first thing I did was strip out those generic attempts at perfection and let my quirks out to play. I wrote:
- “Yes, I’ve read Harry Potter five times. No, I’ll never turn down movie popcorn even after the previews start.”
- “Smalltalk is fine, but give me your worst karaoke song choice—preferably something you can only half hit the notes on.”

My new guiding principle? Own who you really are. If I couldn’t laugh at my own quirks, how could I invite someone else to? After all, what’s scarier—putting you out into the world or putting some sanitized version of yourself in the hands of strangers on the internet? Trick question: both are terrifying. But there’s something respectably brave about leading with honesty.

Step 2: Say Goodbye to Old Jeans Energy

You know the concept of “old jeans energy”? It’s when you keep something long past its time simply out of comfort or routine. My dating app photos had it in spades. I was still clinging to a picture from spring break junior year, wearing a floppy hat that feels psychically painful just to look at now. Another showed me at a friend’s wedding—glammed up, sitting in the corner with an expression that, in hindsight, screams, “Help, I’ve peaked too early.”

So, I swapped out every image and focused instead on showing different facets of my life today. Not past-me who owned floppy hats and harbored delusions of someday nailing bohemian chic. I added shots of real moments instead: me hiking through Talladega National Forest with dirt-streaked boots; me holding my niece during a messy Sunday pancake breakfast; me sitting on my porch, journaling under a sunlit oak tree.

Pro tip: It helps to think of your photos like a highlight reel instead of a magazine cover. Showcase snippets that reflect the life you’d want to share with someone else. Remember: Floppy hats aren’t required unless you’re into them—no judgment here.

Step 3: The Killer Prompt Strategy

Ah, prompts. The bread and butter of any dating profile—and also the potential source of unspeakable cringe (no shade to anyone whose response reads: “I hate pineapple on pizza! Fight me.”). But here’s the secret: prompts = personality. They’re how you break through the noise and show potential matches exactly who you are, quirks and all.

Instead of using safe answers, I zeroed in on two things: specificity and humor. One prompt went from “Two truths and a lie: love ziplines, hate camping, fluent in French” (truth: I can only say “croissant”) to:

  • “Two truths and a lie: 1) I have entire conversations with my dog, 2) I once got banned from an arcade ski-ball machine, 3) I couldn’t camp if my life depended on it. Bonus points if you guess correctly.”

(For the record, I was never banned from ski-ball, though I can see how the lie got some people curious.)

Your prompts are where you invite others into your world—and maybe even set up a great conversation starter. Ask yourself, what do you want to talk about on a first date? Whatever it is, let your prompts bring that vibe.

Step 4: Learn to Laugh at the Curveballs

This one's big. I’ll admit: after my profile overhaul, I half expected the whole dating app universe to light up with suitors who appreciated my rural porch-writing aesthetic and unparalleled dog mom energy. Spoiler alert—it didn’t. Not every match “got” my answers, and most conversations fizzled by day two.

I learned to stop taking it personally. Real connection takes time. It requires vulnerability and clarity—both of which are far less glamorous than Hollywood would have us believe. For me, the joy came in two things: experimenting with connection and learning to laugh at outcomes that didn’t work out. One guy messaged me asking if “journaling under a tree” was code for something illegal (it’s not, but I’ll leave the mystery intact). Another wanted me to teach him “the banjo” and got mad when I reminded him it was a guitar in my photos, not a banjo.

Those moments taught me something bigger than dating. They taught me to meet people where they are and let the right matches emerge naturally. Not every interaction will result in magic, and that’s okay.

Step 5: Create a Profile You’d Swipe Right On

Bold statement here: The BEST outcome of my profile overhaul was the realization that I actually liked who I was—not just the version I was trying to present but me me. In writing my story, I saw why I’d make a great partner—muddy boots, guitar strings, bad jokes, and all. Making others laugh matters to me. So does sitting quietly on walks through moss-draped trails. I let the things that mattered take center stage and stopped apologizing for the parts that felt “weird” or niche.

Your dating profile isn’t just a glammed-up resume for potential suitors—it’s an invitation into your life. Craft it with that in mind.
- Share real moments.
- Celebrate quirks.
- Laugh at the awkward.
- Be bold enough to create something the real you would swipe right on.

Wrapping It Up: The “Me” That Changed Everything

That October night, when I decided to rewrite my dating profile, I had no clue what the outcome would be. But I can tell you this: even before the first new match landed in my inbox, I felt lighter. Braver. More connected to who I wanted to be.

Reclaiming my profile helped me reclaim my story, not just in the world of dating but in how I approached other relationships—from colleagues to family members to the community of creatives I’d always admired from a slight distance. Staying small and safe was never really my style, even if it felt less risky in the past. Taking up space in my own skin? That’s the kind of romantic glow-up no app algorithm can top.

So here’s my challenge to you: Whether you’re swiping or not, take a minute to edit the story you’re putting out into the world. Maybe it’s through your dating profile, or maybe it’s in the way you talk about your life at parties (introverts, I see you). Strip away the fluff. Let them see the real you. That’s the moment where everything changes.