We all have our personal north stars—the beliefs that guide us, challenge us, and sometimes nudge us back into alignment when life throws us for a loop. For me, those beliefs are a messy cocktail of tradition and progress, humor and heart, rooted in my upbringing but still evolving as I figure out how to navigate life, love, and Los Angeles traffic. Let me tell you, nothing makes you interrogate your values quite like being stuck on the 405 while trying to determine if your date's "what are you up to tonight?" text is an actual plan or just a vibe.
Here’s what I stand for, in relationships, writing, and beyond—and why my beliefs might just resonate with you, too.
1. Authenticity Over Perfection
Growing up in Beverly Hills, land of “just a little Botox” and impossibly perfect Instagram feeds, I learned early on that chasing perfection is a full-time job—and not one I'm qualified for. Hollywood is a land of smoke and mirrors, where even reality shows are scripted, but I’ve always been far more interested in what’s going on behind the scenes. The small, unpolished moments: someone forgetting their line, cracking a joke to save face, or admitting, "Okay, I have no idea what I'm doing here."
I’ve found that the same principle applies to relationships. We’re all looking for someone who gets us, but how can anyone truly “get” you if you’re too busy trying to play the effortlessly perfect lead? The quirks, awkward pauses, and unscripted moments are what make you real—and real, trust me, is way more interesting than perfect.
Actionable takeaway: Next time you’re introducing yourself to someone, whether it’s a potential partner or an audition panel (hello, acting metaphors), skip the canned lines. Leave space for your quirks to shine through. For instance, if you're clumsy, own it. “Fair warning—I will probably trip over something while we’re out, and it’ll be 80% endearing, 20% mortifying.” Boom. You're memorable and relatable.
2. Humor Is a Love Language
If there’s one thing I learned from Friday night Shabbat dinners around our never-totally-matching table (where someone inevitably spilled the Manischewitz every week without fail), it’s that humor has a way of bringing people together. Whether it was witty wordplay or straight-up slapstick (one time, my uncle’s kugel actually slid right off its dish mid-sermon—chaos ensued), the laughs always stitched us closer as a family.
When it comes to romance, humor is just as important. Laughing together creates connection. It says, “I see you, I get you, and I’m not afraid to belly-laugh about something ridiculous with you.” Bonus? It’s also a pretty solid barometer for compatibility. If someone can’t appreciate your "awkward penguin walk because I wore the wrong shoes" moment, are they even worth your time?
Actionable takeaway: Embrace levity in your relationships. Whether it’s bantering over text, performing a dramatic reenactment of a terrible first date with your best friend, or being the first to laugh when something goes awry, a little humor goes a long way in building connection. Also, take note of how they laugh—it can tell you more about compatibility than their Myers-Briggs type ever could.
3. Tradition Meets Modernity
I’m a walking paradox of saba wisdom and TikTok chaos. My Jewish upbringing taught me the beauty of tradition—there’s something grounding about sitting down with loved ones every Friday night, lighting candles, and reflecting on the week that was. But I’m also a firm believer that traditions don’t have to be rigid. They’re better when they breathe, when we shape them to fit our lives in the here and now.
Take Shabbat, for example. Some Fridays, it’s the full production: challah, candles, and my mom’s insistence on interrogating everyone about their career plans. Other times, it’s more like a "DIY Shabbat," with me lighting candles on my apartment balcony and ordering delivery sushi. The ritual matters, but so does adjusting it to what feels right in the moment. Relationships? Same deal.
Partnerships thrive at the intersection of legacy and growth. Maybe you honor your family's traditions (say, Sunday night dinner outings) but also create your own, like making a ritual of watching niche documentaries together in sweatpants every first Monday night of the month. The point is, relationships flow best when they give you room to honor where you come from and where you’re headed.
4. Vulnerability Is Strength
Confession time: I used to think vulnerability was a weakness. Somewhere in my early 20s, I picked up the misguided notion that admitting I didn’t know something or showing my messy emotions made me less likable or strong. (Spoiler: it doesn’t.)
What I know now is that vulnerability isn’t just a strength; it’s the superglue of relationships. Being honest about who you are and what you need—without fear of rejection—builds trust and intimacy in ways that curated facades never will. This realization came after more than a few cringey moments of trying too hard to seem “chill” (whatever that even means). I once insisted on loving wine-tastings because a guy I liked did, only to discover I both loathed tannins and lacked the capacity to gracefully describe wine flavors beyond “red.” Lesson learned.
Actionable takeaway: If something doesn’t resonate with you, say so. If you’re feeling nervous, bring it up. Vulnerability doesn’t scare the right people away; it pulls them closer. Bonus tip: You don’t have to love wine just because you’re in Napa—try being the person who orders the sparkling water unapologetically. That’s confidence.
5. The Spotlight Isn’t Everything
Growing up in the entertainment industry, it was easy to think that life was all about who’s in the spotlight. But sometimes, the real magic happens off-camera. The quiet gestures, the behind-the-scenes kindness—that’s what makes a lasting impact. A leading man (or woman) is nothing without the ensemble cast that supports them.
In relationships, the same goes. Big gestures and extravagant declarations are great, but they’ll never replace the small, consistent actions. Your favorite fairy tale romances? They’re built not on grand finales but on day-to-day moments: remembering how you take your coffee, asking about that thing you're passionate about, taking time just to sit in silence together after a long day.
Actionable takeaway: Don’t let the flashy moments define your love story. Pay attention to, and actively create, the little ones. In my book, refilling someone’s coffee without them asking is every bit as romantic as a weekend getaway to Cabo—though, let’s be real, I wouldn’t say no to Cabo.
6. Your Narrative Is Yours to Own
At UCLA, where I steeped myself in screenwriting, one lesson stood out above the rest: Every story needs a clear voice. You can borrow tropes and take inspiration from the greats, but in the end, you’ve got to write the story only you can tell.
This truth isn’t just for writers; it’s for anyone in a relationship—or even just building a life. Your experiences, your failures, your triumphs, your missteps (hello, aforementioned red wine debacle)—all of it creates a narrative only you can craft. Forget trying to recreate someone else’s happy ending, and focus on writing your own.
Actionable takeaway: Whether you're single, dating, or in a long-term relationship, stop comparing your love life to someone else’s highlight reel. There’s no one path to connection or happiness, so own your journey and all its messy glory.
Final Thoughts
Love, dating, and relationships—like a rush-hour commute in LA—can be unpredictable, messy, and occasionally make you want to swear off the whole thing altogether. But they’re also worth every detour, every pothole, and every wild turn when you approach them with honesty, humor, and heart.
So here’s what I stand for: Be real, be kind, laugh a lot, lean into the messy moments, and never let the idea of what love “should” look like get in the way of what makes your journey uniquely yours. And remember, whether your candlelight comes from a Shabbat candlestick or mood lighting in a sushi bar, the real glow comes from within you.
