Lessons I Wish I Knew Earlier
Happiness Isn’t Something Other People Hand You
When I was younger, I treated relationships as if they were a fast pass at Disneyland—surely, finding that magical “someone” would whisk me straight to the happiest rides in life. The idea that another person could complete me felt as natural as a Nora Ephron movie marathon on a rainy day. But here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re growing up binge-watching When Harry Met Sally in Beverly Hills: even if someone begrudgingly shares their last French fry with you (true love, right?), the responsibility for your happiness is still yours.
The sooner I stopped looking for a partner to “fix” me or fill my emotional gaps, the more fulfilled I became. People aren’t projects, and dating isn’t HGTV—we’re not here to renovate one another, no matter how cute the “after” version might seem in your head. What I wish I’d done earlier was take time to figure out who I am, what I love, and what brings me joy without relying on someone else to do the heavy lifting. Which means, yes, you can totally take yourself out for sushi and avoid sharing rolls with that one person obsessed with eating all the spicy tuna. Bliss doesn’t come from a relationship—bliss comes from knowing and appreciating yourself first.
Always Listen to the Red Flags—And The Beige Ones
You’d think with my Hollywood upbringing, I’d immediately recognize a toxic storyline when it crossed my path. But alas, I’ve spent far too many rom-com-worthy meet-cutes glossing over red flags like I was auditioning to be the queen of “fixer-upper” relationships. Spoiler: if someone can’t text you back because they’re “so busy,” it doesn’t matter if they work at a glitter-covered tech start-up or are running their local improv group. Time management is a real thing.
But what I really wish I’d known earlier? Beige flags. These are the subtle quirks or habits that aren’t dealbreakers but should make you go, “Huh, that’s... different.” The guy who insisted Taco Bell was “five-star cuisine”? Funny at first, but when every date involves suspiciously orange queso, you’ll feel less amused. When I finally started paying attention to both the screaming red flags (ahem, commitment phobia) and the quieter beige ones (consistent lateness, oddly-shaped pillowcases on their bed), I began to trust my gut. The moral: Never underestimate your instincts—they’re like a built-in director for your life, silently screaming, “Cut!” when things aren’t quite right.
Love Isn’t a Script You Can Rewrite
When I moved from screenwriting to real-life “let’s write this ending ourselves, shall we?” scenarios, I made the mistake of thinking I could edit other people—and their feelings—into something that worked for me. That guy with an allergy to the word “exclusive”? I convinced myself he’d change as long as I was chill enough, cool enough, not like other girls enough. (Side note: I wasn’t that chill. I also really hate his favorite indie band now.)
Here’s the bombshell I wish I learned in my early twenties: you can’t write someone’s emotional beats for them, no matter how genius you are with dialogue. People show you exactly who they are, whether or not you’re paying attention. The way they treat the waiter, their reaction to your family’s slightly chaotic brisket-filled Shabbat, whether they remember small details about you—these are the real pages. Pay attention, because the right person won’t require your mental rewrites or excessive effort to fit your storyline.
Learn to Appreciate the Gaps
Relationships, like movies, are not made better by packing every moment with action. I used to think the best couples were on-the-go nonstop—you know, taking weekend getaways, bingeing full HBO seasons in a single night, learning salsa together for no reason except to look good in an Instagram Reel. But awkward silences or Friday nights spent debating Seamless orders over reruns of The Office? That’s relationship gold.
Somewhere along the line, I discovered that true connection is forged in life’s quieter moments—the pauses between conversations, the peaceful mundanity of folding laundry next to someone you adore. My biggest revelation? Stop chasing the rom-com grand gestures (though, hey, if someone wants to show up with a boom box outside your window, by all means). Instead, cherish the kind of love that feels like a warm sweater you don’t want to take off—soft, comfortable, and wholly your own.
Never Apologize for Wanting What You Want
There’s a myth out there—and I bought it wholesale—that being too open about what you want in a relationship makes you “demanding” or “difficult.” To which I now say, loudly and unapologetically: LOL, no.
When I politely swallowed dealbreakers for the sake of keeping things “easy,” I ended up with casual flings when I wanted commitment or relationships that skated by on bare-minimum effort. If you don’t voice your needs, people will assume what you’re getting is good enough. It’s not needy to want clarity; it’s not over-the-top to expect respect. Want kids? Say so. Require transparency? Stand your ground. Have non-negotiables about pineapple on pizza? Make that VERY clear. (Seriously, you deserve to eat your pepperoni in peace.)
The right partner won’t make you feel bad for setting boundaries or voicing what you’re looking for—in fact, they’ll love you even more for knowing who you are.
Be the Protagonist of Your Own Story
Here’s the grand plot twist I wish I’d gotten earlier: your life is not an ensemble rom-com where you’re just an accessory to someone else’s narrative. You’re the protagonist. That means your loves, your heartbreaks, and your joy carry worth not because someone chose you, but because you exist and matter.
Spend time building a life that doesn’t depend on whether someone texts you back within 24 hours. Invest in hobbies that have nothing to do with impressing a potential partner. (Yes, even if pottery classes seem extremely date-friendly, do it for YOU.) Treat your independence like the fabulous main character moment it is, and you’ll find the right people naturally gravitate toward that confident, happy version of you.
A Final Word of Encouragement
At the end of the day, relationships are messy, sparkly, ridiculous, and beautiful. You’ll laugh. You’ll cry. You’ll eat a lot of middle-tier sushi, probably. You’ll also learn, grow, and become way more resilient than you ever thought possible.
The hardest lesson in the world is learning how to love yourself first, but once you do, everything else falls into place with startling clarity. And trust me—it beats waiting for someone else to come in with a rescue plan. Be your own Nora Ephron heroine, messy bangs and all. Your happy ending (or joyful, messy middle) is already yours for the writing.
