Morning Magic: Rituals With a Side of Romance
I wake up most mornings to the sound of cathedral bells in downtown Savannah—a melody that’s as dreamy as it sounds until you realize it’s 7:00 a.m. and I’ve hit snooze twice. My first ritual isn’t an Instagram-worthy matcha latte or a sunrise meditation. Instead, I groggily shuffle to my kitchen to revive last night’s leftover pot of coffee. It’s an affectionately terrible habit, much like texting someone back three days later even though I definitely saw the message pop up.
But the coffee—reheated in my grandmother’s vintage percolator—provides the perfect metaphor for my life: sometimes a little reheating can bring comfort and familiarity back to the surface.
Here’s how my ordinary, Southern, slightly mischievous days unfold and what they’ve taught me about connection, self-care, and a splash of romance along the way.
8:00 a.m. – A Front Porch Sort of Start
By the time the coffee kicks in, I’m out on my front porch, watching the city wake up. The Spanish moss hanging from my live oak trees sways lazily in the humid breeze. I soak it all in like I’m in the middle of a Nicholas Sparks novel (minus the shirtless hero painting my shutters).
This is my journaling time—a habit I picked up during a particularly complicated breakup. Flannery O’Connor once said, “I write to discover what I know,” and if it’s good enough for her, it’s good enough for me. I scribble everything from story ideas to half-hearted love poems. More often than not, I write about people: my neighbors walking their dogs, couples holding hands, travelers with their faces lit by Google Maps.
Takeaway? The act of paying attention—either to your surroundings or your feelings—is a romantic gesture toward yourself. It’s okay to notice life’s little details the way you’d notice the dimple on someone’s cheek or the crinkle in their smile. Romance starts with the small things, whether you’re single, dating, or somewhere in between.
10:00 a.m. – Lost in History (Literally and Romantically)
This is when my day veers into the unexpected. Most Tuesdays, I head out to give a walking tour of Savannah’s hidden gems—think cobblestone alleys that tourists miss and burial grounds that could inspire a Southern Gothic Netflix series.
Recently, I had a couple ask me if I believed in ghosts. “To be honest, I do,” I said, glancing at the ruins of an old apothecary nearby. “They’re probably just exes with unresolved issues.” Cue nervous laughter followed by light bickering over their shared belief in the supernatural.
Giving tours reminds me how easy it is to romanticize history—our own or someone else’s. Yet, in relationships (and dating), it’s helpful to leave the ghosts where they belong: in the past. Dragging old heartbreaks into new connections is like showing up to a first date still wearing prom attire from 10 years ago. Not cute.
Noon – Southern Lunch Therapy
Lunchtime lands me in my favorite spot—a sun-dappled bench in Forsyth Park where I devour a chicken salad sandwich (don’t judge) from the market nearby. I love playing food anthropologist here, guessing relationships based on people’s body language.
There’s the girl FaceTiming her best friend while eating a Greek salad—no doubt dissecting a text that could mean he’s into her. There’s the guy who brought a picnic for two, waiting nervously for his date to arrive. Forsyth is like the rom-com of parks: awkward glances, tentative smiles, and unmistakable longing.
Food—and the act of sharing it—has long been a cornerstone of connection. Whether you’re cooking dinner for someone or courting the courage to ask them out over brunch, food creates fertile ground for vulnerability. Tip: next time you want to feel closer to your crush (or rekindle sparks with your partner), ask about their most memorable meal. You’ll learn more about who they are and what fills them up than you ever would scrolling through their TikTok.
3:00 p.m. – Procrastination Station
This is my witching hour—a time for procrastinating that often leads me to antique shops or dusty bookstores. On one such afternoon, I stumbled across a 19th-century book on Southern etiquette. The advice was charmingly absurd (don’t wear gloves inside the home unless it’s below 50 degrees, obviously), but it got me thinking about modern dating etiquette—or the lack thereof.
Can we normalize calling people back instead of ghosting? Or sending a simple “thank you” text after a first date? Dating isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about showing up for another person with basic decency. And, in Savannah style, never underestimate the power of a handwritten note. There’s something undeniably swoony about receiving a card just because someone was thinking about you.
6:00 p.m. – Dinner With a Side of Introspection
After I’ve sufficiently worn myself out pretending I’m starring in a Southern version of Pride and Prejudice, it’s time for dinner. Most evenings, I cook alone with my favorite playlists as company (currently torn between Dolly Parton and anything acoustic). This solitude is intentional.
When I was younger, I subscribed to the idea that dinner requires a partner or at least a table full of friends. These days, I’ve learned to savor eating in solitary splendor—from my grandmother’s china, no less. It’s a ritual steeped in self-love, reminiscent of those Anne Bancroft characters who sip wine and channel elegance without even trying.
Here’s what I’ve learned from dining alone: it teaches you what makes you joyful. And spoiler alert: knowing your own joys makes you so much more fun to be around later. It’s okay to take time for yourself, whether it’s over salmon or sushi. Intimacy thrives when there’s a foundation of independence.
9:00 p.m. – Lighting Candles and Letting Go
Evenings in Savannah are steeped in humidity and an undeniable romance. Before bed, I light a candle—not because I’m a lifestyle influencer but because I’ve convinced myself the flicker scares away overthinking. (Does it work? Questionable. But it’s absolutely cute.)
I take this time to reflect on my day: Did I communicate clearly? Did I show kindness, even in the smallest way? Did I linger too long on the wrong thing? Being honest with yourself at the end of the day is kind of like editing a love letter; you strip away the fluff and get to the heart of it.
One ritual I’d recommend to anyone? Write down one thing you did for yourself today and one thing you did for someone else. It’s a grounding way to remind yourself that the balance of love—both giving and receiving—is what keeps life full.
The Final Takeaway
My days may not be glamorous or wildly daring, but they’re filled with stacks of meaningful moments—from quiet cups of coffee to playful people-watching sessions. In relationships, the same principle applies: Connection grows not in the sweeping gestures but in the little sparks we build daily.
So here’s my advice, whether you’re out on a date or simply navigating the ebbs and flows of self-discovery: romanticize your life. Not in the TikTok “everything’s perfect” sense, but with the kind of gentle devotion usually reserved for well-worn novels and misty Savannah mornings. Fall in love with your routine, your quirks, your humanity. That, dear readers, is the beginning of every great love story—yours included.
