You Think My Job is Just About Love? Think Again.

Let’s Clear the Air: Writing About Love Isn't All Candlelight and Roses

When people hear that I write about dating and relationships for a living, they tend to picture the cover of a dime-store romance novel: a wind-swept writer hunched over a typewriter with a glass of wine, doling out heartfelt truths about love while violins serenade in the background. To be clear, this couldn’t be further from the truth.

In reality? I’m sitting at my kitchen table in a flannel shirt, sipping lukewarm coffee, typing furiously while my dog stares at me like I’ve offended him by not playing fetch for 20 minutes. Don’t get me wrong—I love my job. But let’s dispel some myths. Writing about relationships is not as fluffy and glamorous as you might think. It’s messy, nuanced, and—like love itself—both incredibly rewarding and occasionally forehead-smacking frustrating.

So, let’s dive in. Here’s what people always get wrong about my job (and no, I’m not a professional matchmaker or the second coming of Patti Stanger).

Myth #1: “You Must Have Found the Secret to Love!” (Spoiler Alert: I Haven’t)

Let’s start with the big one. People assume that because I write about love and relationships for a living, I’ve unlocked some holy grail of romance. They think my personal life must be the stuff couple goals Instagram accounts are made of—where every dinner is candlelit, and disagreements are neatly resolved with laughter and a forehead kiss.

The truth? I’ve made more mistakes in relationships than I care to admit. Back in my 20s, I was the guy who avoided tough talks, thought “space” meant ghosting for days, and relied on mix tapes to patch up emotional rifts. I once brought homemade chili to a first date because I thought it was romantic (pro tip: it’s not, especially if the chili spills in her car on the way home). These experiences—awkward, messy, and sometimes downright mortifying—are what shaped me and ultimately give me the perspective to write about love with honesty.

If there’s one “secret” I’ve learned, it’s this: every relationship is a work-in-progress. Even the good ones. It’s not about perfection—it’s about how you navigate the imperfections together.

Would I call myself a hopeless romantic? Sure. Am I still learning? Always.

Myth #2: “So, You Just Write About Flirting All Day?”

Listen, I love a good flirt as much as the next person. But love and relationships? They’re like Appalachian terrain—more difficult than they look and full of unexpected pitfalls (and the occasional dazzling vista). Yes, there’s flirting and giddiness, but there’s also communication snafus, quiet compromises, and learning how to coexist without wanting to throttle each other over how to fold the towels.

For example, a piece I wrote last month wasn’t about swoon-worthy first kisses or grand romantic gestures. It was about conflict resolution—how to argue better when tensions are high. That kind of subject isn’t Instagram-pretty, but it’s crucial. People tend to forget that relationships aren’t built solely on fireworks or shared playlists. They rely on those gritty, unsexy moments where you decide to stay present and work things out.

And then there are days when I’m buried in statistics, studies, and everything short of carving hieroglyphs to explain the psychology of attachment. Sure, I sprinkle humor in the final draft, but let me tell you—reading 40 pages of academic research on serotonin levels in romantic attraction can make you question if you ever want to date again.

Myth #3: “You Probably Only Date Other Writers or Romance Experts.”

First of all, who are these mythical “romance experts,” and where do they hang out? It’s not like writers like me have some secret society with wine tastings and candle-making workshops in dimly lit libraries.

In truth, my job doesn’t grant me VIP access to a world of effortlessly charming suitors. My dating life is as ordinary and, at times, awkward as everyone else’s. I’ve accidentally called someone by the wrong name on a first date (cue the awkward laugh that doesn’t fix anything). And I’ve spent far too much time overthinking a text message or wondering if it’s too soon to send the “good morning” message without seeming needy.

But here’s something my job has taught me: the value of authenticity. I used to think dating was about projection—wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, having the right job title. Now I know it’s about showing up as yourself, warts and all. If someone ghosts me because my idea of a perfect Saturday is listening to bluegrass while cooking cornbread, that’s not my loss—it’s theirs.

Myth #4: “People Must Tell You Their Juicy Relationship Drama All the Time.”

Oh, they do. My inbox sometimes reads like the lovechild of an advice column and “The Young and the Restless.” I’ve had people ask me everything from how to reignite the spark in a 20-year marriage to whether it’s normal that their partner only texts them in pirate emojis (it isn’t).

And while I love hearing people’s stories, one thing people don’t realize is how much responsibility comes with it. Giving advice, even indirectly, carries weight. I want to respect people’s experiences and offer thoughtful insight. It requires research, empathy, and sometimes grappling with my own biases. (For instance, I may have realized mid-essay that my advice about giving “space” in relationships sounded suspiciously like an excuse I once used to avoid accountability. Oops.)

Myth #5: “You Must Be Writing For Lovebirds in Urban Hotspots, Right?”

Look, I’ve lived in Los Angeles, and love stories there are their own kind of fun. But my heart isn’t in swanky rooftop dates or expensive wine bars. It’s in the quiet intimacy of small-town love—the stuff that happens in diners, at local fairs, or walking down gravel roads while fireflies blink around you. (Yes, I’m fully aware I sound like a Nicholas Sparks novel. It’s fine. I lean into it.)

Love in smaller or rural spaces doesn’t get enough credit in mainstream culture. Folks assume “dating” means Bumble profiles and cocktail bars, but for many people, love grows in humbler moments—sharing coffee at dawn before a long shift, or cheering your partner on at the local bowling league match. That’s what I aim to celebrate in my stories: love that’s unvarnished, deeply human, and universally real.

The Bottom Line: Love is Messy—And That’s What Makes It Beautiful

At the end of the day, my job isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about exploring the messiness of human connection and reminding people that they’re not alone in it. Love, whether it’s new or decades old, is rarely tidy or easy. More importantly, there’s no “right” way to do it.

So yes, I write about relationships for a living. Am I Cupid incarnate? Not even close; my aim is way too off for that. But if I can help folks feel a little less confused, a little more hopeful, or just a bit more confident in their love lives, then that, to me, is a job well done.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my dog and I need to have a talk about why he’s sulking after I ignored his “play ball” face all afternoon. Romance may be my career, but loyalty? That’s his area of expertise.