What I Stand For

Southern Roots and Modern Realities

Growing up in Buckhead, where magnolias bloomed as thickly as societal expectations, I learned to appreciate the intersection of tradition and evolution. Sundays meant church services that felt like fashion shows, followed by brunches teeming with grits and gossip. My parents instilled in me a love for culture, resilience, and the slightest touch of genteel defiance—a belief that if you’re going to challenge the rules, you should at least send out a charming handwritten note afterward.

That push-and-pull tension between heritage and progress is what defines my perspective. I write about relationships with the same duality in mind. I believe in the dignity of real, human messiness but also in the value of old-school effort—the metaphorical (and sometimes literal) handwritten note of courtship. Whether I’m penning advice on how to kindly end a whirlwind romance or dissecting the unspoken politics of a wedding guest list, my values are rooted in finding the balance between personal freedom and respect for connection.

Love as Legacy

Let me explain: my parents taught me that legacies aren’t just for trust funds and old leather-bound ledgers. Every connection you make is part of your personal legacy. That time you truly listened during a hard conversation? Legacy. That time you sent a thank-you text after an amazing first date? Legacy. In my world, legacy isn’t confined to wealth—though I’ve been to enough cotillions to know it’s okay if champagne and cash flow freely. Instead, it’s about the subtle ways we leave an echo of ourselves in the lives we touch.

This belief drives my writing. Connection isn’t transactional. It’s transformational. Texts like "What’s up?" at midnight may light a brief spark, but the way you handle a fight—or navigate the tricky terrain of meeting someone’s high-strung dachshund—can leave an impression that lasts for years. I believe in kindness over convenience, in consistency over chemistry. Chemistry is thrilling, yes, but effort? Effort is what builds empires.

Wit as Emotional Armor

Here’s a confession: sometimes, I joke when I’m nervous. I once likened a breakup to taking a sledgehammer to a Jenga tower (epic collapse, splinters everywhere, lots of regrets), but it masked my actual devastation. My writing mirrors this instinct; I pair tough truths with humor because I’ve learned that vulnerability paired with wit feels less intimidating.

Relationships demand vulnerability. They’re a process of slowly peeling back layers—not unlike the time I singlehandedly tackled my grandmother’s infamous seven-layer cake and learned, midway, you cannot cut corners. I’ve seen how humor can soften skepticism and invite deeper conversation, whether it’s a first date or a 30-year marriage conversation about why "Juicy" by Biggie Smalls needs to feature on their morning playlists.

This lens informs my belief that relationships deserve both reverence and mischief. Yes, serious fights about shared values matter, but also? Share goofy memes about soup. Try silly date ideas like seeing who can make the ugliest pancake. When we let humor coexist with our fears, the fear fades just enough to let love work its magic.

Commitment as Design, Not Default

In Southern traditions, there’s sometimes this idea that commitment is like monogrammed hand towels—it’s just what you do. But let’s be honest: a monogram doesn’t mean much if you never use the towels, right? (Guilty as charged—I’ve been known to hoard a good hand towel for “special occasions” that never come.)

Real relationships, whether romantic or platonic, aren’t about checking boxes. They’re about showing up with intention. It’s about committing because you see the beauty in designing a partnership that’s deeply specific to you and the other person. For instance, my parents’ legendary "date nights" involved dissecting financial spreadsheets together—romantic, perhaps not in the traditional sense, but perfect for them.

So here’s the relationship design framework I stand by: keep it bespoke. Ask yourself, “What will make this connection thrive?” Maybe it’s weekly walks in the park. Maybe it’s marathon espresso-fueled heart-to-hearts. Whatever it is, commit completely to what works instead of defaulting to what looks “Instagrammable.”

Vulnerability Without Compromise

Here’s the sweetest contradiction life will ever teach you: vulnerability doesn’t make you weak. It makes you bold. I learned this when I studied abroad in London, far away from my Buckhead cocoon and its safety net of reassurance. Asking for help—whether navigating the Tube or navigating the terrifying, uncharted waters of falling for a boy who knew rugby better than romance—taught me that vulnerability opens doors perfection keeps locked.

That’s why I urge you to embrace the humanity of not having it all figured out. Got ghosted? Go ahead, ugly-cry into a pint of gelato. Feeling disconnected from your partner? Say, “I miss how we used to talk.” I stand for raw, unscripted imperfection because it’s the stuff that reminds us we’re alive.

But here’s the catch: vulnerability shouldn’t mean abandoning your own boundaries or identity. When I write about relationships, I try to champion the idea that you can stand firm in your self-worth without closing yourself off. After all, no house—whether a literal Southern mansion or a metaphorical emotional home—was made to exist without doors.

The Power of Remembering What Matters

Coming from a city like Atlanta, where the old-world charm meets modern hustle, I’ve had a front-row seat to the truth that change is inevitable but values can be timeless. In my world, staying true to who you are means keeping a clear sight of what matters: honesty, kindness, accountability, effort. These are the four pillars my family (and let’s be honest, my occasional obsession with structural metaphors) instilled in me.

When I’m writing about dating or marriage or the weird alchemy of family traditions meeting modern love, those values always lead the narrative. In relationships, as in life, it’s tempting to lose ourselves in trends or to prioritize fleeting thrills over what feels real and steady. But I believe that love is a foundation, not a fleeting TikTok trend.

A Few Stand-For-Fixes You Can Try, Too

No matter where you are in your relationship journey, I’ll leave you with a few principles worth holding onto:

  • Speak what you mean, but keep the delivery soft. Nobody likes a diamond-dagger critique. Make your words jewels, not weapons.
  • Celebrate small efforts. Whether it’s your partner replacing the toilet paper roll (correctly) or your first post-breakup outing alone, every win matters.
  • Be grateful, but also curious. Thank them for making you laugh. Then ask about what makes them laugh. Build conversations like you’d build trust—with curiosity as cement.

When you remember what you stand for, you stand taller in the messy, exhilarating, joyful marathon that is navigating human connection. Don’t panic if you occasionally trip (hint: we all do). The important part is that you get back up, dust yourself off, and keep moving with all the grace—and occasional chaos—you can muster.

Everyone’s legacy is their own—but trust me when I say the ones built on kindness, effort, and a little touch of humor leave the best mark.