The first time someone called Coeur d’Alene “boring,” I felt personally attacked. I was fresh out of undergrad, standing at a party in Portland where everyone was talking about kombucha brewing and trail-running apps, when someone off-handedly referred to my hometown as “the middle-of-nowhere Canada.” Canada? Boring? Excuse me? I didn’t know how to explain—to this group of Patagonia-wearing pseudo-outdoorsy types—that growing up on the shores of a lake that looked like it had been painted by Bob Ross had been anything but dull.

But now, years later, I realize this tiny, lakeside town may well have been the place that made me—and, incidentally, the best accidental dating coach I never knew I had. Turns out, everything I learned about love was rooted in this quirky little corner of northern Idaho, where the pace was slower, the mountains were high, and tourists from every state forced my socially awkward self into some sort of human connection.

And while Coeur d’Alene didn’t exactly scream “romance capital of the world,” it taught me some solid principles that I’ve carried into adulthood—principles I’d argue are a crazy mix of practical, endearing, and maybe a little weird. If you’ve ever wondered how growing up next to sprawling pine forests and an actual moose or two can shape your dating life, buckle up.

Lesson #1: The Power of Patience

Growing up in a resort town, summer was everything. The streets would come alive in June, and just like that, the sleepy vibes of winter gave way to an influx of boaters, backpackers, and aspiring outdoors influencers. Life became dynamic, fast-paced, and—if we’re being honest—a little chaotic. But the real magic was in the stillness of the off-season.

During those long winters, I learned a simple but profound truth: good things take time. My dad spent weeks building a dock on the water, plank by plank, in preparation for the following summer. My mom replanted our garden every year, coaxing life out of frozen ground. Slow work, sure. But it was intentional.

Relationships often mirror this rhythm. If Coeur d’Alene taught me anything, it’s that not every spark needs to be a forest fire. Sometimes, those small, patient embers lead to the longest-lasting flames. It’s okay for things to move slowly, for connections to grow in time rather than bursting into existence.

Pro Tip for Your Romantic Life: Give people—and yourself—the gift of patience. You probably won’t have life-changing chemistry on the first date, but does that mean there’s nothing worth exploring? Absolutely not. Build the dock. Plant the garden. See what happens.

Lesson #2: Say Yes to Adventure (But Know When to Say No)

In Coeur d’Alene, saying “no” was practically forbidden. Someone wanted to wakeboard at sunrise? Absolutely, I’m in. A bonfire on Tubs Hill followed by stargazing? Done. Bike the Centennial Trail even though I hadn’t been on two wheels in three years? Oh, sure, sounds great, I’ll just rebuild my lung capacity first.

The problem? Somewhere around my junior year of high school, I realized I’d started to get swept up in other people’s plans—often at the expense of what I actually wanted. I wasn’t really wild about tubing down the Spokane River for the fifth time, and yet, there I was, an inflatable swan wrapped around my waist, gritting my teeth through the “fun.”

Here’s the thing: saying yes is vital—especially in dating. It’s how you grow, make memories, and expand your comfort zone. But knowing when to say no? That’s equally important. Coeur d’Alene taught me that.

Pro Tip for Your Romantic Life: When you’re dating (or in a relationship), saying yes can lead to magic—but only if you’re doing it with intention. Say yes to new experiences, new people, and new perspectives. Say no if it feels forced, one-sided, or like you’re learning to wakeboard just to impress someone who’s barely holding your interest.

Lesson #3: Authenticity Beats Perfection Every Time

Let me tell you a little secret about Coeur d’Alene: it’s not perfect. For every glossy Instagram photo of the shimmering lake at sunset, there’s an awkward moment of reality behind it. The lake is freezing most of the year. Mosquitoes are a force of evil. And if you haven’t stubbed a toe on a piece of driftwood, are you even a local?

But that’s what makes it real, right? Coeur d’Alene’s charm lies in its flaws. It’s not some polished, showy destination—it’s the place where you track mud into your house after a hike and laugh it off. It’s the place that doesn’t need to prove itself because it lets its quiet magic shine through unapologetically.

The same goes for relationships—I swear. No one likes “perfect.” It’s exhausting, unattainable, and honestly, kinda suspicious. Be your mosquito-bitten, stubbed-toed, real self. That’s where the good stuff happens.

Pro Tip for Your Romantic Life: Stop trying to curate your life into an aesthetic. Be honest about what you love, what you mess up, and what makes you laugh so hard you snort. Authenticity will always draw the right people to you—whether it’s friends, partners, or someone who can also recognize the difference between a gray jay and a pigeon (truly, a lost art).

Lesson #4: Connection Knows No Zip Code

My family’s lakefront resort drew travelers from everywhere. I met folks from Brooklyn who didn’t understand why locals rolled their eyes at deer sightings and Texans who were bewildered by the lack of fast food options within ten miles. But my favorite guests were the ones who sat on the dock and told their stories: their adventures, heartaches, jokes, and dreams.

Meeting them taught me that connection knows no boundaries. The same could be said for Coeur d’Alene—it taught me to find humanity and openness even in people who initially seemed like they belonged to a completely different world. And really, that’s such a vital dating lesson. You don’t need to agree on everything or share the same past to connect. Sometimes it’s your differences that create the strongest bonds.

Pro Tip for Your Romantic Life: Be curious. Ask questions. Dig below the surface. Maybe you grew up on opposite coasts or one of you drinks gobs of kombucha while the other has never tasted it—that’s okay! Differences don’t block connection; they make it interesting.

Lesson #5: A Good View is Worth the Effort

There’s a reason Coeur d’Alene draws a crowd: it’s staggeringly beautiful. It’s the kind of place where you hike for three hours straight, slightly concerned you may die on the way up, but then—then—you reach the top. Your legs might be jello, but you’re looking down on this sprawling landscape of deep blues and rich greens, the lake spilling out like a secret held by the mountains. Suddenly you forget the struggle, because the view? Yeah, it was worth it.

Dating is kind of like that hike. Honestly, it can be a slog: messy, sweaty, and occasionally filled with metaphorical blisters (hello, awkward first dates or heartbreaks that hit you like a rogue tree branch). But when you find that connection that makes it all worth it? There’s nothing like it.

Pro Tip for Your Romantic Life: Don’t give up when it gets hard. Push past the discomfort. It’s all part of reaching that moment where you find yourself amazed—not because someone swept you off your feet, but because you did the work and stayed true to yourself.

The place that made me may be a blip on most maps, but it’s a forever star in my emotional GPS. If love is, at its core, an odd mix of bravery, patience, and laughter, then consider Coeur d’Alene my ultimate training ground. Wherever your “place” is, the lessons you carry from it are probably richer and more vibrant than you give them credit for. So go ahead, lean into them. You might just surprise yourself when you realize how much wisdom you’ve been holding all along.