What People Get Wrong About My Job

The Myth: Writing About Love Must Be Like Living in a Rom-Com

Picture this: I’m sitting at my desk, looking out at the Miami skyline, steaming café con leche to my left, and a candle flickering in the corner like some writerly Pinterest board brought to life. I’m happily typing away, weaving profound insights about love and relationships, because, naturally, I know everything there is to know, right?

If this sounds like the life of a dating and relationships writer, I hate to burst your bubble. For starters, my favorite writing snack is a bag of plantain chips crammed next to my laptop, and my screen is less about whimsical romance and more about frantic Google searches: “Why does ghosting hurt so much?”

Writing about relationships is a beautiful and messy ride, much like relationships themselves. And while I love my work, there are a few misconceptions about what I do that I feel it’s time to clear up.

Truth #1: I Am Not a Walking Love Guru

Here’s something people assume about me: because I write about relationships, I must have my own love life figured out, right? Hah. Let’s talk about the time I mixed up my date’s name with his dog’s name over dinner. Or the moments when a text that says “u up?” at 11 PM has me staring at my phone like it holds the secrets of the universe.

Writing about dating doesn’t mean I’ve hacked the system or unlocked the relationship achievement trophy. If anything, it’s given me a front-row seat to how simultaneously thrilling and exhausting the pursuit of human connection can be.

For example, I might write about the importance of clear communication one day and then find myself overanalyzing an emoji someone sent me the next. (A winky face to a “sounds good” text? What does it mean?)

We’re all navigating this relationship maze together, and while I’ve learned a lot from research and writing, I don’t cruise through my personal life with the wisdom of a rom-com heroine.

The Takeaway: Writers are humans first, experts second. The next time someone tries to compare me to a Cuban Dr. Ruth or assumes I lead a heartache-free life, I’ll kindly remind them that even therapists have therapists, and even dating writers swipe left every now and then.

Truth #2: Writing About Love Is More Than Just Talking About Cute Dates

“Do you just write about first dates and meet-cutes all day?” If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me this, I’d build myself a taco empire.

Love and relationships are about so much more than candlelit dinners and playlists curated for late-night driving. They’re about vulnerability, compromise, awkward missteps, and—let’s be real—sometimes crying into a carton of Haagen-Dazs while your abuela tells you it’s time to meet a nice Cuban boy.

In my work, I write about love’s full spectrum: the elation of a new crush, the gut-punch sadness of a breakup, the intimacy of being truly known by someone. Sure, occasionally, I sprinkle in some humor about a disastrous Tinder encounter, but my goal is to get real about what it means to connect.

Take a recent story I wrote about setting boundaries in relationships. The advice stemmed from personal experience—like how I once agreed to help an ex move out of his apartment because I felt bad saying no (rookie mistake). That’s not the stuff of cutesy narratives, but it’s the kind of thing people relate to.

The Takeaway: Relationships are messy, unpredictable, and far from picture-perfect—but those are the stories I love telling.

Truth #3: Everyone Thinks They’re an Expert (And I’m Here for It)

Writing about love means your inbox is full of unsolicited advice from readers. Everyone has their “secret” to relationships: “Always date someone who loves dogs,” “Never sleep over until the fifth date,” or my personal favorite, “Marry a man who knows how to season his food.”

And honestly? I pride myself on creating a space where those contributions are welcome. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that love isn’t a one-size-fits-all T-shirt. What works for me might not work for you, and that’s okay.

But here’s the truth: not all advice is created equal. I once fell for the idea that playing it cool was the ultimate dating move, only to realize that being my goofy, emotionally open self made much better connections. Sometimes, you just have to trust your gut and surround yourself with people who let you be you, unfiltered and uncool as you may be.

The Takeaway: Collect advice, sure—but don’t let anyone have the final say on your heart.

Truth #4: Romance Doesn’t Always Have to Look Like a Novela (Pero, Sometimes It Does)

Growing up in Little Havana, love was loud, passionate, and full of people dramatically throwing chanclas across the room during family spats. I grew up believing romance should be equally dramatic.

But as the years passed, I realized that love can also exist in the quiet spaces. The little things: someone separating the plátanos maduros for you because they know you like the crispy ones, or a partner who pulls you close during a storm, even when you insist it’s “just a little rain.”

It’s tempting to romanticize relationships as constant fireworks, but more often than not, it’s about the slow burn of familiarity and trust. (Though I’ll admit, nothing wrong with some grand gestures thrown into the mix—who doesn’t love a good bouquet of cafecito roses?)

The Takeaway: Real love is layered, and the best relationships balance the explosive passion with ordinary, shared joys.

Truth #5: It’s Not All Just Fun and Flirting—It’s Honest, Raw, and Personal

Here’s the reality: writing about love means diving into some pretty vulnerable spaces. The time your heart broke for the first time. The argument you had with a partner that taught you how to speak your truth. The discovery that love isn’t just something that happens to you—it’s also something you actively create, every day.

Sometimes people say to me, “Doesn’t it get exhausting, writing about relationships all the time?” And sure, some days it does. Self-reflection isn’t exactly a spa day. But more often than not, it feels like a gift.

We often think of love as a cliché, but when you closely examine it, it’s anything but. Helping people articulate their longings, fears, and hopes? That’s about as rewarding as it gets.

The Takeaway: Writing about love means exposing truths—about connection, about loss, about yourself. But isn’t that what makes love (and life) worth it?

The Final Word: Love Is for Everyone

If one thing rings true after doing this work, it’s this: love shows up in countless forms, and it belongs to all of us. Whether you’re stumbling through your first dating experience, celebrating a 10-year anniversary, or deciding to focus on the most important relationship of all—your relationship with yourself.

So the next time someone asks what my job is all about, I might just say this: I write about discovering what connects us, what breaks us, and what makes it all worth it in the end. It’s not glamorous, but it’s messy and beautiful, just like love itself.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a box of plantain chips calling my name.