"How does a whaling historian end up writing about modern dating?" That’s the question I get asked every time someone stumbles across my online writing profile, sandwiched between my novels set in 19th-century Nantucket. The answer, my friend, involves a kelp-strewn beach, a salt-crusted shoebox, and my inaugural attempt at online dating—the moment that quite literally changed everything.

Love in the Time of Chatham Fog

Picture this: I’m standing on the shore of Brant Point, mid-January, with a shoebox full of artifacts in one hand and my phone in the other—comparing 19th-century whaling logs to Bumble profiles written in frantic, emoji-laden shorthand: 🚴‍♂️🍷🙌 = “I’m active but approachable; please love me.” I’d escaped to the beach after a disastrous attempt at creating a dating profile, trying to merge Oliver: The Historian with Oliver: The Actual Human Being. Neither, it seemed, was presenting as particularly dateable.

The problem, I quickly realized, was relatability. For years, I’d lived in a bubble of parchment and salt air, crafting intricate (and fictional) love stories aboard phantom whaling ships. These romances involved yearning glances passed under the glow of an oil lamp, a secret tucked into the fold of a sailor’s compass. Now, in the 21st century—a world of GIF flirting and avocado toast—I was profoundly out of my league. My bearded coolness (think maritime hipster) didn’t translate online. I may have been the love child of “Moby-Dick” and Wes Anderson, but no algorithm cared. So, there I was: single and failing to connect.

While the tide rolled in, I asked myself: “What’s the modern equivalent of writing a love letter that smells faintly of cedar wood?” The answer came as predictably as waves lapping on a Nantucket shore—authenticity. Turns out, no matter what century you’re in or what platform you’re swiping on, the best connections are built on the truth of who you genuinely are.

But how do you translate something as big as “yourself” into four photos and a handful of words, complete with typos because autocorrect has your number? Let me tell you what I learned that day, sea mist in my hair and moisture creeping into my shoebox of ephemera: your online dating profile should be both your lighthouse and your harbor, guiding people to your quirks and anchoring them with something real.

1. Be the Captain of Your Own Story

Throw the clichés overboard, folks. “I love long walks on the beach” is already true of everyone you’ve ever met (and if it’s not, are they even human?). Instead, lean into your unique details. I once listed “obsessive cataloger of maritime ghost stories” in my bio, and while responses varied between intrigued and confused, at least no one could accuse me of being boring.

Want to stand out? Tell a story instead of reciting a résumé:
- Instead of “I love cooking,” try: “I once charred an entire loaf of sourdough in a misguided attempt to recreate a Paul Hollywood recipe, but I make a killer risotto."
- Swap “I love books” for: “Currently rotating between rereading 'Pride and Prejudice' for the romance and a survival guide for my inevitable apocalypse obsession.”

People want texture—they want the salty, sea-breezy bits that make you unforgettable.

2. Pick Photos That Are Basically Shorthand for “This Is Me.”

Ever wonder why everyone on dating apps posts photos of themselves hiking? Here’s the secret: they’re not selling the mountain. They’re selling vibrancy, adventure, and good lighting. But you don’t have to summit Kilimanjaro to craft an appealing visual story.

Here’s how to do it right:
- The Portrait Shot: A no-brainer. This should look like you, not the airbrushed, Hunger Games “Capitol” version of you. Bonus points if you smile like you just spotted the perfect parking space in July.
- Show, Don’t Tell: Love gardening? Snap a picture in your favorite flannel, lovingly caressing an overgrown zucchini. Play guitar? Show off your calloused fingers mid-strum.
- The Wild Card: Include one photo that shows how gloriously weird you are. My “standing in front of a decommissioned lighthouse in too-small waders” pic? Hit after hit.

Think of your photo selection like a gallery exhibit—each one telling a piece of a broader, better story.

3. Swipe Left on Perfection and Right on Vulnerability

Here’s a shock: no one wants perfection. At least, not in the "slick haircut and quotes Hemingway on first dates" sense. What stands out is vulnerability—the cracks where the light gets in.

Instead of crafting the perfect profile, craft your profile. Be willing to reveal the things about yourself you’d only share with a friend or trusted confidant. For me, that meant admitting a brutal truth: I don't like open-water swimming, which is sacrilege on Nantucket. (But hey, I’ll happily cheer from shore with a perfectly packed picnic.)

Here are some ways to infuse your profile with authenticity:
- Add small, self-deprecating flourishes: “Can bench press a grocery bag full of canned goods but will absolutely need help opening a pickle jar.”
- Mention hobbies with qualifiers: “I love painting, but my cat could probably do better landscapes.”
- Let your weird show: “I rewatch ‘Deadliest Catch’ unironically, and honestly, it’s becoming a problem.”

When you shine a light on your quirks, you give people permission to shine back. Vulnerability begets connection—it’s true whether you’re at sea or swiping in your living room.

4. Reel in the Right Matches

The first messages you exchange set the tone for a potential match, so leave the tired small talk for the people trapped in conversations about weather. Approach your opener like you would a bottle tossed into the ocean: full of hope, curiosity, and something worth responding to.

Tips to reel in the right connections:
- Ask an open-ended, specific question inspired by their profile. See a photo of them holding a towering ice cream cone? Cue: “Is that dessert or performance art?”
- Tap into shared hobbies: “Gardeners, unite! Any tips on keeping tomatoes alive in less-than-perfect soil (or sand)?”
- Channel humor—bad puns are underrated. “Are three photos of a golden retriever too many? Asking for my future dog.”

Remember: the goal isn’t to impress; it’s to connect. Think of your opener as casting a net—not for the most fish, but for the right one.

Safe Harbors and Open Horizons

That day on the beach, staring into my phone like it held the key to my (non-paranormal) future, I crafted my first authentic dating profile. I didn’t try to sound too cool, nor did I hide my idiosyncrasies—like my obsession with early American sea shanties, which led to a very specific exchange with a woman who claimed to have decked out her record player with maritime-themed vinyl. Spoiler: we never worked out (long-distance was the iceberg), but she did send me a “Best Of The Decemberists” playlist after our first date, which is honestly just as good.

The lesson? In dating and relationships—whether you’re swiping online or meeting someone in line at the corner store—being yourself isn’t just a strategy. It’s the point.

So write your profile like you’d write about your favorite memory: layered, unique, and tinged with the salty air of a life that’s lived fully and honestly. Be the lighthouse, guiding someone in through the fog. And if all else fails? There’s always a cheeseburger at the harbor-side diner, waiting for you to enjoy your own company.