Living Between Worlds
The Push and Pull of Two Worlds
I often joke that I’ve lived two lives: one in the rugged hollers of West Virginia, where the mountains stand like sentinels, cradling stories of coal mining families and old country ballads, and one in the sprawling, sunset-blushed streets of Los Angeles, where avocado toast is religion and no one blinks twice when you suggest goat yoga. Each place has shaped me in profound ways, but living between them has felt like balancing on the edge of a blade.
On one side, my roots tug at me—a world of hard work, deep loyalty, and potluck casseroles. On the other? A shimmering horizon of new possibilities, different perspectives, and fancy coffee shops where baristas spell your name wrong on purpose. Dating and relationships have been the wildest arena where this duality shows up. Small-town values meet big-city strategies, and boy, does it make for a confusing dance.
If you’ve ever felt like you’ve had to straddle multiple versions of yourself in love, let me just tell you: you’re not alone. Here’s how I learned to embrace both parts of me as I navigated life—and relationships—between two worlds.
The Rom-Com vs. the Appalachian Ballad
We all know the charm of a good romantic comedy. People meet-cute in coffee shops, share witty banter, and eventually fall in love under twinkling fairy lights. This was what dating in Los Angeles felt like—hopeful, fast-paced, and sometimes absolutely ridiculous. One time, a date told me her "love language" was ethically sourced candle making. Another claimed her spirit animal was a kombucha scoby. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that the Appalachian boy in me was more familiar with the language of hog calls and grieving over bad moonshine.
Meanwhile, back in West Virginia, love stories take on the tone of those mournful old ballads—where someone’s “true love” leaves for the next town over and takes half your heart with them. Dating in small-town Appalachia is simpler, quieter, and—let’s be honest—steeped in gossip. One date with the local librarian? Suddenly, the entire community is convinced you’re one potluck away from engagement.
Navigating these extremes, I found myself trying to reconcile why I loved both: the grounded loyalty of my roots and the sense of limitless discovery from the West Coast. Here’s something I learned: when you’re dating between cultures, you don’t have to choose one type of love story. It’s okay to want the comfy couch nights and the rooftop cocktail spark. The trick is knowing who you are—and what you need—as the main character in your story.
Lessons Learned from Coal Mines and Cocktail Hours
Living between these two worlds has taught me that when it comes to relationships, the tension between familiarity and novelty isn’t something to be solved—it’s something to embrace. But here’s how you can navigate it:
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Find Your Non-Negotiables:
A coal miner doesn’t head underground without a light and a hard hat. Similarly, you shouldn’t throw yourself into relationships without knowing your fundamentals. For me, I need someone who values loyalty and lets me play folk music on road trips (yes, West Virginians are very specific about their playlists). What’s non-negotiable for you? Maybe it’s shared values or someone who respects your need for alone time. Know it, own it. -
Celebrate What Makes You “You”:
On one date in L.A., I vaguely mentioned that my family hunted deer. The look of horror I got was enough to make me want to crawl into a mine shaft. But here’s the thing: I wouldn’t change that part of me. Those cold hunting mornings taught me patience, resilience, and how to get creative with venison recipes. Own your quirks, whether it’s your farm-raised wisdom or your obsession with graphic novels. The right person will find them endearing, not repellent. -
Lean Into Curiosity:
Nobody has it all figured out. When you’re dating across cultures, embrace the learning curve. Be open to trying new things while introducing them to your world in return. Some of my best memories involve dragging a Californian date through a pumpkin patch in the fall (pro tip: city folks really struggle with muddy boots). In turn, she introduced me to sushi I couldn’t pronounce but ended up loving. -
Balance That “Homebody vs. Adventure” Energy:
In Appalachian culture, staying rooted is sacred. My parents, for example, have probably slept in the same bed every night for decades. In big city culture, everyone’s on the move—career shifts, international travel, maybe two homes. Are you someone who craves stability more than novelty (or vice versa)? Get clear on that and make sure your partner is okay with where you land.
Awkward Moments Are Inevitable, But They’re Worth It
Here’s the truth about navigating between worlds—there’s no perfect balance, and sometimes, things will feel hilariously out of sync.
Take the first time I invited an L.A. girlfriend home to meet my family in West Virginia. She brought an organic kale salad to a picnic where everyone else brought fried chicken or potato chips. I mean, the woman tried—but you can imagine her face when Great Aunt Carol pointed to the kale and asked, “Is this food for us or the goats?”
I felt embarrassed in that moment, sure, but looking back, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Why? Because the kale salad next to the fried chicken dish was a metaphor for who I am—a little of this, a little of that, and plenty of ridiculousness in between. If someone loves you, they’ll show up to the picnic with their kale anyway.
Love Doesn’t Have to Fit One Mold
If you’re someone who finds yourself toggling between different worlds—be it cultural, professional, or personal—it’s important to recognize that this duality is a strength, not a weakness. Loving and dating across those divides will challenge you in ways you never imagined. Sometimes, you’ll feel like the kale at the fried chicken picnic, but don’t let the dissonance scare you off. It’s this very in-betweenness that teaches us how to adapt, how to connect, and how to stay true to ourselves while building bridges to others.
At the end of the day, love doesn’t have to be one thing—it can stretch and grow, just like we do. And that’s what makes it worth it. Whether your love story is more Nicholas Sparks or Judd Apatow, give yourself permission to live somewhere in between.
So be the kale and the fried chicken. Be West Virginia slow hikes and California starry rooftop dates. Be someone who brings both worlds into the relationship—because the only world you need to navigate first is your own.
