When I was seven, I fell in love with a ghost.

She wasn’t a spooky Halloween ghost but the beautifully tragic heroine of “The Peony Pavilion,” a classic Chinese opera I saw with my parents during a steamy Beijing summer. Du Liniang, who pined herself to death after falling for a man in her dreams, returned as a ghost to reunite with her love. To my young, overly imaginative mind, it was the most romantic thing ever. The story planted a seed in me—an obsession, really—with romance as this larger-than-life, all-encompassing force capable of transcending the limits of reality. And while that may sound intense, bear with me. I promise this has everything to do with how obsession shapes who we are, who we love, and how we connect.

What I realized—after years of awkward crushes, messy heartbreaks, and, occasionally, eating instant noodles in bed because, no, he didn’t text back—is that our obsessions, the things we nerd out over with borderline embarrassing enthusiasm, deserve more credit in our romantic lives. Not only do they make us delightfully weird (which is, let’s face it, the best kind of weird), but they’re also the keys to unlocking deep, meaningful connections. Stay with me as we unpack this, starting with my personal recipe for obsession soup.

The Anatomy of an Obsession: Why You Care So Much

Some people obsess over sports teams; others collect vintage vinyl. Me? I’ve been stuck on ghosts of all forms—both literal and metaphorical ones.

Growing up in a household packed to the rafters with books, my parents nudged me toward classics like Dream of the Red Chamber and the poetry of Li Bai. But what stuck wasn’t the intricate symbolism; it was the romance. Specifically, the heady mix of heroism, longing, and heartache that bled into every page. I was drawn to the idea that love reverberates regardless of time or space, whether that’s through a lovesick ghost or the poems of a Tang-era drunkard staring at the moon.

Fast forward to my 20s, and my obsession had morphed into a fixation on enduring connections in a world that feels fleeting. On a first date, you bet I’m the woman randomly asking, “Do you believe in soulmates, or is it all just probabilities and pheromones?” Just once, I’d like someone to say, “Both,” or better yet, “Do you think ghosts flirt in the afterlife?”

In this age of superficial swipes and ghosting (ha—ironically named, no?), I’ve learned that our little quirks and obsessions are like breadcrumbs for finding “our people.” They’re conversation starters, curiosity builders, and litmus tests for meaningful connections. They’re also what set you apart from the sea of small talk.

Wearing Your Personality, Obsessions and All

Here’s the thing nobody told me during my early, painfully self-conscious years of dating: Leaning into what makes you wonderfully unique—your literary love of 14th-century Chinese operas, your ability to recite every line from Lord of the Rings, or even your curated spice collection—is the ultimate power move in relationships.

Why? Three reasons:

  1. It’s Endearing: Passion is contagious. When someone sees you light up about your love for Baroque architecture or K-pop choreography, it reveals the spark in you, and that’s irresistible.

  2. It’s a BS Filter: Sharing your obsessions isn’t about impressing people; it’s about compatibility. Someone rolling their eyes or mocking your interest in niche arthouse films? Next!

  3. It’s Memorable: A story about how you once braved haunting solo travel to track down a monastery featured in a Ming Dynasty poem? They’ll remember that—not “Oh, I work in marketing.”

Think of your obsessions not as vulnerabilities but as secret superpowers. They make you stand out from the anonymous sea of “I like movies, music, and hanging out.” Which leads me to my next point…

Harnessing the Quirky: Love Lessons from My Obsessions

Obsessions have taught me two big lessons about love, both romantic and platonic. Let me lay it out:

  1. Dive Deep, or Don’t Dive at All
    My fascination with old stories isn’t superficial. I don’t just consume what I love—I dissect it, roll around in it, and occasionally write poems at 2 a.m. about it. Something magical happens when you approach relationships with that same level of presence and intensity. Be all in, whether it’s for two weeks or two decades. People can feel when you’re not fully there.

  2. It’s the Little Things
    Back in university, an ex once sat through a four-hour stage adaptation of The Peony Pavilion with me. It wasn’t his thing—he had a deep hatred for metaphor—but he genuinely tried to understand why I lit up every time the lead singer hit the high note. That effort mattered. Love, I’ve learned, is built less on grand gestures and more on noticing what makes someone’s world spin slightly faster—and holding space for it.

Your Quirks Are the Hook in Your Story

If you’ve ever felt uneasily “too much”… congratulations. That’s the point. Life is too short to be vanilla when you’re Rocky Road with caramel swirls and chocolate chunks.

Here’s how to let your lovable obsessions fly, in dating and beyond:

  • Don’t Hide the Weird: Whether it’s your undying devotion to historical fiction or your penchant for rewatching Kung Fu Hustle once a year—share it. See who leans in instead of backing away.

  • Ask Weird Questions: Skip the “What do you do?” line. Try: “If you had to eat one meal every day for a year, what would it be? Bonus: Make it symbolic.” Your obsessions are conversation goldmines—use them to connect in ways that stick.

  • Follow Their Breadcrumbs Too: When they geek out about something—a podcast, the perfect latte foam, Olympic curling—pay attention. It’s the simplest way to show you see them.

Embrace the Encore

My Du Liniang obsession has evolved over the years; I’ve swapped romantic opera ghosts for a lively home library and an inexplicable habit of hunting down old bookshops wherever I travel. But at its core? My love for what makes life hauntingly beautiful remains.

When it comes to relationships, I’ve learned this: Your obsessions aren’t just weird quirks to file away or water down for the sake of blending in. They’re echoes of your truest self, waiting to connect with someone who’ll harmonize, rather than mute, your melody. So go ahead, celebrate your ghost stories, your spreadsheets of obscure trivia, your collection of enamel pins, or your fixation on why rom-coms peaked in the late ’90s (objectively true).

And next time someone asks, “What makes you tick?”—well, you’ll know exactly where to start.