"We Need to Talk..." (About Lessons You Don’t Learn Until It’s Too Late)

Relationships are like magic shows. You’re dazzled by the lights and the fanfare, completely oblivious to the misdirection happening under the table. And then, poof, the dove is gone, the mystery is over, and you're stuck thinking, Wait, what just happened?

Growing up in Vegas, I saw my fair share of illusions—both on stage and in life. My dad would come home smelling like fireworks and curtain ropes, my mom’s hands perpetually dusted in glitter from sewing sequins onto costumes. Together, they taught me an unspoken truth I didn’t fully grasp until my 20s: behind every big production is a lot of trial and error, a bit of luck, and moments no one claps for.

Turns out, love works the same way. Here are the biggest lessons I’ve learned about dating, connection, and why sometimes, you’re the dove that disappears—and that’s okay.

1. People Can’t Read Your Mind—And Thank Goodness for That

Ah, the silent expectations in relationships. They’re the emotional equivalent of blinking Morse code across a crowded room and hoping the other person gets it. (Spoiler: they usually don’t.)

When I was 22, I was supremely confident that great partners just knew what I needed. I thought relationships were intuitive, like jazz. Subtle looks. A few improvisational gestures. Voila, harmony. Or so I assumed.

Here’s what I know now: your partner is not sitting backstage studying the script of your soul. Spell it out. Not sure how to phrase what you’re feeling? Start here:

  • “When X happens, I feel Y.” (Simple, effective. Insert your situation.)
  • “I need help with this because I’m feeling overwhelmed.” (This works for anything from bad days to deciding where to eat.)
  • “I appreciate it when you do [specific action]. It means a lot.” (Highlight the good. Positive reinforcement wins.)

Communication isn’t just telling someone what you like in bed or where you want to go for date night. It’s asking yourself: Am I willing to show up and actually say the scary things? That’s how the magic starts.

2. Chemistry Is the Spark; Compatibility Is the Foundation

Vegas rule: don’t go all in on a game you don’t understand. Dating, sadly, is like poker—sometimes you’ve gotta fold early instead of doubling down on every outlandish, over-the-top grand gesture.

Case in point? My college boyfriend. Let’s call him Ryan (because that’s his name, and honestly, I know he’d roll his eyes reading this). He looked like an Abercrombie model dipped in existential mystery. Fast forward to three months in: I realized we had nothing in common except undying thirst for each other and a shared Spotify playlist.

Chemistry may feel magical, but compatibility is what tells you if that spark could light a campfire or burn your whole forest down. Bonus tip: compatibility doesn’t mean liking all the same things; it means respecting the differences and meeting in the middle.

Ask yourself:

  • Does this person’s lifestyle match mine, or are we trying to glue two mismatched puzzle pieces together?
  • Do I feel energized or drained after spending time with them?
  • Could I live with only 80% of what they bring to the table? (Be honest with yourself here; nobody’s 100%. Not even Ryan Gosling.)

3. Never Confuse Closure with a Clean Conscience

About three years ago, I bumped into an ex at a Vegas coffee shop. Let me set the stage: my messy break-up playlist was blasting somewhere in my subconscious—think Adele, but make it desert-chic. There he was, standing in front of me like a ghost who orders oat milk lattes.

I wanted That Moment™. You know the one. The perfect movie scene where I’d explain my heartbreak, coolly deliver my exit line, and saunter off victorious. But here’s the thing: real closure doesn’t come from mic-drops or reverse Uno cards. It comes from acceptance.

I still yearned for an explanation that made sense, but at some point, I realized no amount of rhetorical gymnastics was going to rewrite history. Instead, closure became this powerful, private reclamation: forgiving myself for sticking around too long, missing red flags, or being the wrong person for him, too.

4. Timing Is the Secret Star of Every Love Story

Somewhere in an alternate universe, there’s a version of me still dating my freshman-year sweetheart. The problem was never the feelings; the problem was the timing.

When you’re not ready to love someone in the way they need—or vice versa—no cosmic alignment is going to fix things. Timing matters as much as any "meet-cute" story, and sometimes, the healthiest thing you can do is admit that right person, wrong time is no myth.

This is tough because relationships teach us to fight for things. But what if timing is a part of compatibility? Some doors you can’t force open. Trust the lock. Trust that some people are just lessons disguised as love stories.

5. Flaws Don’t Sparkle, But They’re Still Worth Holding

In the glitz of the Las Vegas Strip, you quickly learn one thing: the most blinding lights don’t mean the fanciest acts. The newer, shinier thing isn’t always better. (Trust me, I’ve watched tourists rave over buffets that belong in the culinary depth of despair.)

Now, back to love. I’ll be honest—there’ve been relationships where I was constantly chasing a caricature of perfection: Instagram-ready vacations, witty banter, and fluorescent, undeniable sparkle. It was after one particularly disappointing fling that I realized: those picture-perfect moments are fleeting. What really matters is how you show up when things go dim.

  • Can you handle each other’s chaos without checking out?
  • Do they take accountability when they screw up?
  • Are you both willing to get your hands dirty—metaphorically speaking—in the relationship?

Love isn’t about finding perfection. It’s about deciding whose cracks you’re willing to plant flowers in.

6. You’re Allowed to Outgrow the People You Once Loved

This lesson hit me harder than I’d like to admit. I’ve always been someone who wants to fix things—relationships, misunderstandings, antique chairs. But there’s a power in letting go when a connection no longer fits.

A friend once told me, “The hardest breakups aren’t romantic—they’re the ones where you lose the version of yourself that existed in that relationship.” She was right. There’s grief in growing apart, but there’s also immense beauty in becoming more fully you.

You can love the people who shaped you while moving on. No resentment required. (Cue Billie Eilish’s Happier Than Ever, a.k.a. the anthem of this realization.)

The Show Must Go On

Here’s the truth about love that no one really tells you: relationships are as much about you as they are about your partner. Every person you date holds up a mirror to your insecurities, your desires, and your capacity to grow.

And sometimes, the lessons come after the curtain falls. You learn. You dust off the sequins. You step back into life’s spotlight, dazzling in your own way.

Because if there’s one thing Vegas taught me? The glitz might grab attention, but the substance is what leaves a lasting impression.

You’ve got this, friend. Happy loving.