It was a stifling July afternoon in Savannah, the kind where the humidity hugs you tighter than your aunt at Thanksgiving. I remember sitting by the window of my little writing nook, my cat, Clementine, sprawled dramatically across the desk like some tragic Southern heroine. I was nursing a tall glass of sweet tea—half to stave off the heat, half because it felt obligatory in my hometown—and wondering how many polite rejections one aspiring writer could collect before her dreams felt as wilted as the hydrangeas outside. And then, the phone rang.
You know how, in movies, significant calls are accompanied by dramatic musical swells or cleverly foreshadowed earlier in the plot? This wasn’t that. My ringtone at the time was a vaguely embarrassing harp rendition of “Time After Time” that I’d chosen in a phase of misplaced romantic optimism. But for all its lack of orchestral flair, this call turned my life on its head.
The Surprise of a Lifetime
When I picked up, the voice on the other end was warm but unfamiliar. “Celeste, this is Virginia Morton from Lowcountry Living magazine. I just finished reading your essay on Savannah’s ‘forgotten houses,’ and I can’t stop thinking about it. Have you considered expanding this into a feature?”
Have I considered it? I wanted to shout, “Have I considered living in the Cotswolds and writing novels by candlelight?” But I stayed calm. Or, as calm as one can be when an editor at a magazine you’ve been fantasizing about writing for casually suggests you make a significant leap in your career.
The truth was, I hadn’t thought anyone would read that essay beyond the handful of people who stumbled upon my tiny travel blog during a rabbit hole Google search for “haunted carriage houses.” It was my first foray into public storytelling—part architectural history, part Southern nostalgia wrapped in lyrical prose—and Virginia’s words planted a seed of possibility that my career could amount to more than giving historic home tours to tourists who kept calling magnolia trees “that big shrub thing.”
Fate or Flirtation?
Looking back, I often liken that moment to dating magic—a successful first date where you realize, against all odds, the other person sees you for who you really are. Writing at that point in my life felt like courting a moody poet. One day, I was madly in love with the thrill of creation, certain I was destined for greatness; the next, I was texting my sister that I’d made a horrible mistake and should just stick to historical house tours.
Virginia’s call was the equivalent of a big, romantic gesture. It was as though the universe had sent me a mixtape labeled, “You Can Do This.” I didn’t know it at the time, but answering that phone—and agreeing to write that feature—was the beginning of redefining my relationship with myself. Because true romance isn’t always a meet-cute with someone else. Sometimes, it’s falling back in love with the person you’ve always been, even when the path ahead feels impossibly uncertain.
The Pitfalls of Overthinking
After we hung up, I paced my kitchen for an hour, spiraling into familiar territory. What if I said yes, but the words wouldn’t come? What if I turned in the feature and Virginia instantly regretted her enthusiasm? What if I, quintessential overachiever that I was, smashed my one shot in spectacular fashion, like Scarlett O’Hara trying to host a garden party in a thunderstorm?
This is the part where I have to pause and remind you, dear reader, of a lesson I learned the hard way: saying “yes” doesn’t mean you’re not scared. It means you’re willing to let fear ride shotgun if it gets you closer to your destination.
How This Applies to… You
I know what you’re thinking—this isn’t exactly groundbreaking for a dating and relationships platform, right? But I beg to differ. Because if my experience taught me anything, it’s this: the calls that change your story may not come from a romantic lead. They might come from a friend, a mentor, or even some version of yourself you’d forgotten. And when they do, how you respond matters.
Relationships—whether romantic, platonic, or professional—thrive when you do three things:
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Embrace the unexpected.
The best connections come from moments you can’t script (which is, admittedly, a tough pill for over-planners like yours truly). Keep an open mind; not every chance encounter is Cupid’s doing, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth pursuing. -
Fight the urge to sabotage.
Somewhere along the way, we convince ourselves we’re better off underselling who we are. My gut reaction to Virginia’s call was to think, “She made a mistake.” Don’t be afraid to take someone at their word when they tell you you’re good enough. -
Show up.
Whether it’s a relationship or an unexpected opportunity, follow through. That feature article didn’t write itself—I had to commit, even after the initial rush of validation wore off. Show up not just for them, but for yourself. It matters.
From Phone Call to Forever
The essay became a feature. The feature opened doors to more writing opportunities, leading to the novel I had always dreamed of putting into the world. And here I am now, typing away at my desk, Clementine still making herself the tragic heroine of every story, reflecting on how one call shifted my trajectory.
But beyond the résumé wins and bylines on glossy pages, here’s what’s worth noting: saying “yes” to possibility rewrote my relationship with myself. It reminded me that, much like love, our passions have the power to lure us back to the person we were always meant to be. You just have to pick up the call—and keep answering, no matter how uncertain the future feels.
So, here’s your takeaway: Life, much like a good romance, doesn’t demand perfection. It demands courage. Whether it’s a career leap, a fresh connection, or a reawakening of something you’d put on pause, trust your instincts. The most unforgettable calls aren’t just about who’s on the other end. They’re about discovering what’s always been within you, waiting to be seen.
