What People Get Wrong About My Job

When you tell people you write about dating and relationships for a living, the reactions tend to fall into three buckets. First, there’s the sly eyebrow raise, as if I just admitted to spying on first dates at coffee shops for “research.” Then there’s the overenthusiastic “Oh my gosh—you must have THE BEST stories!” crowd, imagining my inbox is flooded with tales of love, heartbreak, and hilarious date fails. Finally, and perhaps my favorite, there’s the pitying head tilt: “Aw, that’s sweet. So…what’s your real job?”

Let me set the record straight. Writing about dating isn’t some romanticized, fairy-tale gig where I lounge in silk pajamas and offer hot takes on Hallmark movie plot twists. It is real, rewarding, and often surprising work. And no, it’s not as glamorous—or as drama-filled—as you might think. Let’s clear up some of the biggest misconceptions about my job and take you behind the curtain.

You Don’t Just Write for Singles

Here’s a shocker: my audience isn’t limited to people who are single and ready to mingle. Sure, I spend a lot of time thinking about what makes flirting fun or how to handle those early DTR (define the relationship) conversations. But relationships don’t stop being work just because you’ve got a plus-one for the holiday party. A lot of what I do involves speaking to folks in long-term partnerships—helping them rediscover romance, navigate communication hurdles, or stop arguing about who left the cap off the toothpaste.

Dating advice isn’t just about swiping right; it’s about connection, vulnerability, and growth. Whether it’s helping someone flirt for the first time in years or showing a couple how to rekindle the spark, my work is about making sure people stay in love just as much as they fall in it.

I Don’t Have All the Answers (But I’ll Tell You What I Know)

If I had a dollar for every time someone asked, “What’s the secret to a perfect relationship?” I’d probably—and I say this with full transparency—adopt eight cats, buy an art-deco house in Houston, and start collecting rare Beyoncé vinyls.

Here’s my confession: I don’t know what your specific relationship secret is. Anybody who tells you they’ve cracked the universal code to dating and relationships is trying to sell you snake oil—and probably some overpriced eBooks while they’re at it.

What I do have are insights. From experience (dating as a Black gay man in Southeast Texas isn’t exactly for the faint of heart), from sociology (yes, college was worth it, Mom), and from the stories people have so generously shared with me as a writer. Here’s a nugget I will stand by any day: incredible relationships are built on curiosity. Asking better questions, wanting to truly know someone, and being open to learning new things about them five, ten, twenty years down the line—that’s where the magic happens.

I’m Not a Love Guru—and That’s a Good Thing

I don’t glide into rooms wearing flowing robes, sprinkling rose petals as I dispense relationship wisdom on command. In fact, a lot of my job is decidedly unsexy. I write drafts that don’t always work. I spend hours reading studies on communication trends. I brainstorm titles that walk the line between click-worthy and cringe (“Why ‘The 5 Love Languages’ Might Be Ruining Your Relationship” will not see the light of day on my watch).

And mistakes? Oh, I make them. Early in my career, an article I wrote about “red flags to watch out for” sparked an unexpected backlash. Readers argued some of my examples (like being ‘too independent’) were actually perfectly healthy traits. They were 100% right. That taught me to approach my work with more balance and empathy—and a bit more caution when tossing out blanket advice.

Here’s the point: I’m human. I don’t do perfection, and I don’t advocate for it in relationships, either. It’s much more freeing (and a whole lot more fun) to embrace the messy, unpredictable nature of love—and your own glorious imperfections while you’re at it.

The “Best Stories” Aren’t What You Think

Yes, some of the stories I’ve encountered are jaw-dropping. Like the time a reader described meeting their significant other after he accidentally sent her a text about dinosaur fossils. Or the couple who fell for each other as rival pickleball players in their neighborhood league. (If that’s not made-for-TV romance, I don’t know what is.)

But most of the time, it’s not the wild stories that touch me—it’s the quiet ones. The middle-aged man who emailed me after my breakup essay, saying his toughest heartbreak wasn’t a romantic one, but his fallout with a friend of 20 years. Or the 60-something widow who told me my column gave her the confidence to venture into dating again after decades of marriage.

These moments remind me why I do this. Not for the salacious details or misguided assumptions that I’ve somehow aced love myself (spoiler: I have not). I do it because love, in all its shapes and stages, is worth celebrating, worth navigating, worth figuring out. It's not always fireworks; sometimes it’s quiet, vulnerable, and deeply affirming.

What It’s Really Like

So, what’s my job actually like? Imagine reading your friend’s text drama about their crush, then pausing to deep-dive into an article on intimacy research, then switching gears to craft metaphors about love that don’t sound like fourth-grade Valentine’s Day cards. Oh, and then you might scroll through Beyoncé’s discography in search of a lyric to perfectly anchor a section on self-love.

It’s fun, but it’s work. The stories don’t write themselves, the jokes don’t land without effort, and authenticity takes conscious, consistent care. Yes, I get to share advice and stories about one of the most universal things in the world—love. But I also get to build community. There’s no greater privilege than helping people feel seen, no matter where they’re at in their journey.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, my job isn’t about being a know-it-all or a love doctor. It’s about exploration and connection, helping people get closer to themselves and the ones they care about. And yes, it’s about laughing at the absurdities of the dating world—because sometimes, you match with someone who asks if you’d abandon them during a zombie apocalypse five minutes into the chat. (True story. Would I? No comment.)

If there’s one thing to take away, it’s this: love is messy, unpredictable, and wildly beautiful. And whether you’re flirting for the first time, navigating a breakup, or figuring out how to love your partner better, I’ll be here with stories, advice, and maybe the occasional Beyoncé lyric to cheer you on.

Because real relationships? They’re not perfect. And that’s exactly what makes them worth it.