I didn’t plan on falling for her. I didn’t even plan on falling for it. But like so many stories of life-altering love—or, let’s be real, awkward Tinder dates—it crept up on me faster than a mountain storm. One minute, I was a starry-eyed twenty-something park ranger in Grand Teton National Park, focused on cataloging wildflowers and leading interpretive hikes. The next, I was sitting across from a fiery, spirited woman I’d met entirely by accident, wondering how one conversation could upend everything I thought I knew about connection.

Let me back up.

A Trail Ride You Don’t Come Back From

Here’s the thing about growing up on a ranch: you learn early on to handle life’s unpredictabilities. Sometimes, it’s wolves making an unscheduled appearance. Sometimes, it’s a saddle strap snapping mid-trail ride. You roll with it, solve the problem, and brush off the dirt on your way forward. This philosophy worked for me in my personal life, too, particularly when it came to dating. I’d had my share of short-lived connections but nothing that screamed “this is it.” No meet-cutes, no love-at-first-sight. My ranch-bred pragmatism told me that relationships took time, effort, and a lot of patience—qualities I figured I’d have time to flex later in life.

Then, one spring afternoon, I decided I was overdue for a little spontaneity. I signed up to volunteer at the park’s annual visitor open house, a casual mixer for locals, rangers, and wide-eyed tourists. I’ll be honest—back then, I wasn’t there for the people so much as the promise of free chili and an excuse to skip paperwork. But that’s where it happened. That’s where she happened.

Maya—bold, witty, and so full of energy it felt like standing in the path of a rushing river. She was perched near the buffet table cracking jokes with strangers, somehow making one of the lamest events of the year seem like the hottest ticket in the region. I don’t know if it was the wild confidence or the fact that she snagged the last cornbread the moment I reached for it, but there was something magnetic about her. “I’ll split it with you if you can tell me which bird out there is making that crazy noise,” she challenged, gesturing to a nondescript brown blob perched high in the pines. Game on.

What started as a debate about birds turned into a four-hour conversation. Maya wasn’t from the area—she was a digital nomad type (ugh, I hadn’t even realized I had a bias against people who used Wi-Fi more than water filters). She’d been through more national parks than I could name and had stories of adventures that felt plucked from a novel. But beneath all the camper-van glam, she had this way of asking oddly poignant questions, ones that made me pause and catalog not just wildlife, but myself.

“If you had one day left here, what would you spend it doing?” she asked at one point, her voice disarmingly calm.

For the record, I didn’t have a solid answer then. What I did have by the end of that night? The bone-deep realization that my rock-solid self-reliance wasn’t nearly as fulfilling without someone to be vulnerable with.

The Cracked Compass Moment

Now, here’s how this ties back to dating advice (I promise, I’ll get there). That evening wasn’t magical because Maya and I rode off into the sunset together. Spoiler alert: we didn’t. It was magical because it shook up my perspective.

We all like to think we know who we are. Growing up under Wyoming skies, I thought my identity was as sturdy as the mountains around me: rugged, dependable, predictably solid. Meeting Maya was one of those “cracked compass” moments that resets everything. I thought I knew where I was going in life, but that conversation pushed me to ask not just where I was going but why. Why was I stuck waiting on fate to drop a relationship into my lap? Why was I avoiding the risk of putting myself out there, flaws and all?

Maya and I exchanged numbers, but true to her wandering heart, she was halfway to Patagonia within weeks. We kept in touch for a while, but eventually, life moved us in different directions. Still, that encounter lit a spark in me I couldn’t ignore. It set me on a mission not to just find connection but to unearth myself along the way. And like tracking bison in the wrong boots, that journey wasn’t exactly graceful. But, hey, I learned some valuable lessons—even if a few came at the expense of my dignity.

Lessons from the Wilds of Online Dating

If you were hoping this is where I’d tell you I met my soulmate on the trail the next week, sorry to disappoint. What actually happened was a series of digital disasters: me fumbling my way through online dating apps, trying to figure out how in the world to make sense to someone via a handful of pictures and cringey bios. (“Lover of sunsets. Also certain I could survive a bear encounter. Interested in proving both theories.” Yeah, that wasn’t cute.)

But here’s where the cowboy-turned-hopeless-romantic in me is gonna dish some advice that works offline and online:

1. Put Your Real Self Front-and-Center

Think of your dating profile as a trail map for potential connections. Clear, honest, and maybe a little adventurous? That’s what hooks someone—and not just anyone, but your someone. Post the picture of you while hiking, if that’s who you are, but skip the generic waterfall shot we’ve all seen before. Be specific: “Can spot a coyote from half a mile away but still can’t fold a fitted sheet” is way more relatable. Trust me, quirks are cool.

2. Tell Stories, Not Résumés

Everyone loves a good story. Instead of rattling off your hobbies like a high school extracurriculars list, choose a snippet of life they won’t forget: “The first time I moved a moose out of a tourist-filled parking lot …” or “That time I accidentally packed cat food instead of tuna on a seven-day trek.” Stories carry your voice, your humor, and your humanity.

3. Mind Your Messaging

If you’re sliding into someone’s DMs (or swipes, or whatever we’re calling it these days), be curious but intentional. You don’t have to write an essay (please don’t), but “Hey, I noticed you’re into bluegrass too—got any favorite banjo riffs?” is roughly 1,000 percent more effective than “So … how’s life?”

4. Bring Playfulness to the Serious Stuff

Yes, relationships take work, but they’re also supposed to be fun. Look for ways to keep things light, even when navigating heavier moments. A shared laugh can level mountains of tension.

Lasting Takeaways from an Unexpected Moment

The truth is, I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t attended that open house all those years ago. Maybe I’d still be stumbling my way through singlehood, waiting for life to give me permission to prioritize connection. Or maybe I’d still be avoiding the vulnerability of putting myself out there, even when the view’s better with someone by your side.

What I do know is that sometimes, life gives you these little flashes of clarity—the type that makes you sit up and say: “Yep, this is what matters.” Maybe you’ll find it on a trail, in a conversation, or during a swipe session on Bumble. The location doesn’t matter. What happens after does.

So go ahead: crack open that compass. Rewrite your trail map. Don’t wait for cornbread-flirting fate to call the shots because that brand of courage Maya stirred in me? It’s just as alive in you.

And remember: even in the wilderness—literal or emotional—you’re never as lost as you think.