If there’s one thing Austin doesn’t do, it’s subtlety. This city is honest-to-goodness loud, from the echo of guitars spilling out of Sixth Street bars to the unapologetic crunch of gravel under your boots at a honky-tonk two-stepping class. It’s a place where the skyline is ever-changing, but the soul stays stubbornly rooted in community. Austin made me who I am—messy edges, big heart, brisket cravings, and all. And the lessons I’ve learned here? They sneak into every corner of my relationships, whether I’m cracking open a Shiner Bock with friends or navigating the layered tango of love.
Let me take you on a little journey through the place that taught me everything I know about connection, creativity, and keeping it real.
Learning to Listen When the Music Plays
Growing up with Austin’s indie music scene as a backdrop meant learning early on that everyone brings something unique to the mix. My first taste of this came during a humid summer night at the Mohawk, a downtown venue designed to make you feel like you’re simultaneously under the stars and in someone’s garage. A local band—a mix of banjo strummers and synth keyboardists—played a set so wild and unexpected it sent the crowd into pure, arms-in-the-air ecstasy. I looked around and realized something profound: no one cared how weird it was. Austin audiences show up to feel. They’re open to every sound, from sweet harmonies to dissonant chaos, and somehow make room for both.
Relationships have their own wild and unexpected harmonics, too. I realized later that the secret to great connections is less about trying to solve every discord and more about showing up to listen. Some days the people we love show us their bouncy, synth-keyboard side; other days, they hand us a sad, warbly banjo solo. Either way, sit with it, feel it, and make room for what comes next. That’s Austin’s music scene in a nutshell, and honestly, good advice for any emotional toolkit.
Barbecue Teaches You Patience (And Passion)
Austinites don’t just like their barbecue; they revere it. If you can brave the legendary line at Franklin Barbecue, you’ll not only leave with a plate of smoky, tender heaven but also a full-blown education in delayed gratification. It’s not fast food—it’s food that demands you respect the process. Low and slow wins the race here, y’all, and it’s the same when it comes to relationships.
Back in my early twenties, I was all about rushing headfirst into things—romantic declarations three dates in, decisive ultimatums over text, the works. But the more brisket I waited for, the more I realized the beauty lies in savoring the slow burn. Humans don’t emerge from the smoker fully formed. A great relationship, like great barbecue, is built in stages. It takes time to build understanding, to marinate in shared experiences, and to carve out the tender parts. If you’re always looking for the finish line—whether that’s the proverbial ring or perfectly synced holiday plans—you’re missing the whole point. Sit back, enjoy the process, and let it unfold in its own savory way.
Taking Weird Detours to Find Your Flavor
Austin has always been a little quirky (it’s not a city with unofficial mottos like “Keep Austin Weird” by accident). If you’re on the way to a hotspot taco truck, odds are high you’ll pass a guy on stilts juggling flaming bowling pins or someone trying to convince passersby that bats are, in fact, underappreciated environmental heroes. That kind of everyday whimsy taught me to lean into the beautifully bizarre rather than shrink away from it.
When dating once felt like a meticulous game of trying to present an ultra-polished version of myself, I realized I was robbing both of us of the fun. Austin taught me that embracing your quirks leads to the good stuff—the belly laughs, the “wait, you like that too?” moments, and the kind of intimacy that feels 400 times more real than any perfectly posed Instagram post. The guy who didn’t laugh when I declared, “Breakfast tacos are objectively superior to dinner tacos. It’s science” wasn’t my guy—which is fine! The point is, being yourself is the easiest filter there is for finding who vibes with your flavor.
Community Over Convenience
Let’s talk about porch culture. East Austin porches, like the weathered wooden one my parents still sit on, are where people come together for no particular reason. Just neighbors chatting about their day, recounting their grocery store run-in with a local celebrity (yes, Willie Nelson shops at H-E-B too), or sharing what’s known locally as a pity avocado—you’ve got six ripe-on-the-same-day ones, and no one wants guac waste.
What those porches taught me about relationships was clear as day: make space for each other. We’re too often caught in convenience—sending texts because we don’t feel like calling, calling because we don’t feel like showing up, swiping because it’s easier than starting an actual conversation somewhere. My parents’ porch remained full because people cared enough to stop by, chat, listen, bring over bad wine and better stories. Invest in the people you care about with your time, not your thumbs. In every relationship worth holding onto, be someone’s porch to sit on.
Keep the Lights On
My favorite Austin tradition? The Moonlight Towers—iconic, eerie, perfect. These 165-foot towers from the 1890s light up pockets of the city in a soft, almost ghostly glow. They’re as much about atmosphere as they are about keeping things illuminated. And truthfully, they’re a metaphor I carry with me—Austin’s reminder that even when something isn’t fully clear, even when darkness creeps in, you can still find your light.
Sometimes love is messy. (Okay, a lot of times.) We argue, fail to communicate, act selfishly, or leave dishes in the sink. But there’s courage in keeping your lights on. It’s in being open to working through the complicated stuff, the scary honesty, the vulnerable confessions under a pale glow. Shine enough moonlight on your connections, and you’ll find your way back to each other.
Final Takeaways: Stop and Stay Weird
At its core, Austin taught me this: life and love aren’t just about reaching for the sparkling skyline—they’re about pausing to enjoy the graffiti mural splashed across the train car parked in your path. Find what feels true for you. Dance barefoot under globe lights. Say yes to midnight queso runs, and kiss like it’s a dive-bar slow dance even if you’re in your living room.
Whether you’re in the early stages of flirtation or tackling the challenges of long-term love, remember that connection is about showing up as you are and celebrating what makes your journey yours. And if life feels a little marinated in chaos, consider my best Texan wisdom: grab a taco, turn up some live music, and trust that good things take time.
