Lessons I Wish I Knew Earlier
There are few moments in life more humbling than unpacking your mistakes in the rearview mirror of adulthood. It’s a uniquely human—often hilarious—spectacle to realize how little you actually knew when you thought you had it all figured out. For me, growing up in Utah in a family where the Christmas card ideal of love was spoon-fed alongside apple pie, my early framework for relationships was, let’s just say, “under construction.” Over the years, I’ve had my fair share of dating missteps, love-inspired epiphanies, and moments that demanded I go spelunking into the caves of my own heart. Here’s the wisdom I wish I could’ve whispered to my younger self—and what I hope helps you along your journey, wherever you are on it.
1. Date the Person, Not Their Potential
Here’s the thing: you’re not signing up to be someone’s life coach, their DIY self-help guru, or (heaven forbid) their personal therapist. If you’re thinking, “They’ll be great once they [insert major personality overhaul here],” stop right there.
I used to be that guy—falling for potential instead of the person right in front of me. One particular memory stands out: there was this woman I dated who was absolutely magnetic, brimming with creative plans, and always one step away from “turning things around.” I convinced myself her unrealized potential was a treasure chest waiting for me to help open. Well, spoiler alert: that chest stayed closed. And my efforts to pry it open only frustrated us both. Turns out, loving someone for their hypothetical future self is like buying a car that “just needs a little work” and then being surprised when it’s in the shop every weekend.
Lesson learned: date people for who they are right now, not for their under-construction blueprint. People can grow, yes, but that’s their work, not the foundation of your relationship.
2. Compatibility Isn’t a Buzzword—It’s The Blueprint
Raise your hand if you’ve ever ignored obvious red flags because of “chemistry.” (Raises both hands for dramatic effect.) Chemistry feels intoxicating—it’s that electric zap that makes you laugh at their terrible jokes or sit through three hours of a movie genre you secretly despise.
But underneath the fireworks, compatibility is the quiet engine that keeps the relationship moving forward. Early on, I dated someone who loved unpredictability—spontaneous road trips with no plan, throwing darts at a map, that kind of thing. Me? I’m the guy with three types of sunscreen and a laminated map when I go hiking. It didn’t take long for her “wild spontaneity” to turn into my oyster-shucking anxiety.
The takeaway? Surface attraction might get you through the first few dates, but compatibility builds the stuff that stands the test of time. Do you align on values, communication, and goals? If you’re constantly resentful or compromising parts of your core self, it’s time for some big questions—and probably a bigger conversation.
3. Communication Shouldn’t Feel Like Rocket Science
You know those sitcom couples who bicker constantly, and we all laugh because it’s “cute”? I used to think that was just how relationships worked. It’s not. Real communication isn’t about winning arguments, dropping passive-aggressive hints, or doing that slow-burn “no, it’s fine” thing that definitely isn’t fine.
In one of my early relationships, I distinctly remember spending hours stewing over small slights instead of just saying what I felt. It made me feel self-righteous for “taking the high road” while the other person was left guessing what the heck was actually wrong. Pro tip: there’s no extra credit for being a communication sphinx.
I’ve found one grounding exercise that always helps when conversations get heavy: pause, breathe, and literally picture that you’re “on the same team.” (Yes, it’s corny. And yes, it works.) Instead of reaching for blame, think, “How do we both win here?” Shift the goal from being right to being understood. Those moments can rebuild bridges that might otherwise crumble from neglect.
4. You Don’t Need to Share Everything
Here’s the deal: I grew up in a culture that almost idolized candor. Vulnerability was framed as this mythical relationship glue that would bind two souls for eternity. I’m not saying you should bottle up emotions, but there’s wisdom in discerning which truths actually add to the relationship versus which truths are just overloading the basket.
For instance, do they really need to know that the hoodie they love wearing reminds you of your ex? Probably not. Share what builds trust, strengthens intimacy, or resolves conflict—but keep the unnecessary “oversharing for sport” moments in check. No one needs a romantic partner who doubles as an unfiltered diary.
5. Growth Requires Solitude Too
I used to think true love meant an unparalleled level of attachment—talking every day, spending every waking moment together, merging goals, calendars, Netflix watchlists. But here’s the truth bomb that took me way too long to grasp: meaningful partnerships include space, and no, that doesn’t mean you’re “drifting apart.”
In fact, I’d argue that space for individual growth can actually tighten your connection. For me, taking solo camping weekends in southern Utah or diving into creative projects without consulting a partner felt indulgent at first. Over time, though, it became clear how essential those pockets of solitude were for maintaining my identity. When you invest in becoming a fuller version of yourself, you have more to offer—not less.
6. If You’re Wondering Whether You’re Settling... You Probably Are
It’s like that old line from Harry Potter: “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.” If you’re repeatedly questioning whether this relationship is “good enough,” there’s probably a deeper longing going unmet. Settling rarely looks like a dramatic soap opera moment; more often, it’s subtle—a gentle shrug at incompatibilities instead of keeping your standards clear.
One of my biggest relationship “aha” moments came about during a long drive to Zion National Park. Quietly, I realized that I was holding onto someone purely out of fear: fear of loneliness, fear of heartbreak, fear of “starting over.” But here’s the rub: settling only delays the inevitable. And love worth experiencing—the kind that changes you, supports you, revives you—never asks you to settle.
7. Silence Can Speak Louder Than Words
Sometimes, the hardest truths aren’t spoken; they’re felt. If a relationship feels like it requires constant justification to friends, or if all your energy is spent trying to keep it upright, that silence in you might be saying things you’re afraid to admit out loud.
Pay attention to the quiet moments—when it’s just you, no distractions. Do you feel at peace? Do you feel more buoyed than burdened? Relationships should add more to your life than they take away. And if they don’t, listen to the whispers of your gut. It’s rarely wrong.
8. Love is Messy, But It’s Also a Lot Simpler Than We Make It
I’ll admit, for a guy who loves unpacking things, I used to over-intellectualize love. I wanted to solve it like a crossword puzzle: if I filled in enough boxes, eventually it would all click into place. But love isn’t so cut-and-dried. It’s not about analyzing every word, tiny gesture, or text emoji like you’re decoding the Da Vinci Code.
Real love, I’ve learned, is honest, reciprocal, and naturally pushes you toward your best self. It doesn’t demand that you shrink parts of yourself or contort into impossible yearning. And it’s so much more about partnership than perfection.
Final Thoughts: Give Yourself Permission to Learn
Look, relationships—like life—don’t come with clear-cut instructions. You’re going to fumble. You’ll send a text you wish you could unsend, you’ll misinterpret signals, and sometimes you’ll build bridges with people who were meant to walk their own paths. It’s all part of the beautifully messy process.
If I could go back and give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be this: refuse to settle, don’t fear the pauses, and always, always choose growth—your own and theirs. Love isn’t perfect, but when it’s right, it sure as heck feels worth it.
