I grew up listening to stories—tales my grandparents spun beside creaking porches, wrapped in humid Charleston evenings. They didn’t just tell stories; they passed on truths cloaked in anecdotes, wisdom dressed in the everyday struggles and joys of Lowcountry life. My parents, ever the educators, worked hard to ensure that our family’s roots weren’t just preserved but celebrated. Somewhere between the Gullah Geechee hymns and my mom’s countless reminders to “never settle for less than your worth,” my core beliefs began to take shape: authenticity, resilience, and connection. These are the compass points that guide my actions and my writing, and they’re also how I navigate the messy, beautiful world of dating and relationships.

Let’s unpack that a little more, shall we? Maybe there’s something in my guiding principles that resonates with you, too.

Authenticity: "Come as You Are" (Yes, Even If You’re Decaf Coffee in a Double Shot Java World)

If you’ve ever heard a Gullah folktale, you’d know that authenticity runs deep in my DNA. Those stories didn’t sugarcoat, and neither does life—or love, for that matter. Yet, in today’s world of filtered selfies and curated Instagram bios (Foodie! Wanderlust! Plant mom!), it’s all too easy to get swept away trying to be what we think someone else wants, instead of honoring who we are.

Here’s the thing: you can only fake it for so long. Sooner or later, the façade crumbles, and you’re left wondering why someone fell for the hologram of you instead of the real thing. Vulnerability gets a bad rap, but let’s be honest—it’s the secret sauce of meaningful connection. Back in college, I had to learn the hard way that pretending to love Radiohead to impress a date only led to hours of Googling lyrics so I wouldn’t get called out. Exhausting. (For the record, I still don’t “get” Radiohead, and that’s okay!)

My advice? Embrace your quirks, your flaws, and your laugh that sounds like you swallowed a kazoo. If you have a closet full of Crocs, own it. (Though I’d suggest maybe easing into that revelation on date three...) The right people will meet you where you are, not where you think you “should” be.

Resilience: When the Gumbo Burns, Stir Anyway

There’s an old saying in my family: “Sometimes the roux burns, but the gumbo’s still worth saving.” That little pearl of wisdom applies to both cooking and love. Relationships—and the act of building them—aren’t linear. They get messy. People disappoint us (and, news flash, we disappoint people too). But what matters is what you do after the pot boils over. Do you scrap the whole thing, or do you try again with more patience and a lower heat?

When my first serious relationship ended, I remember questioning if I’d ever try again. I was waist-deep in my graduate studies in the middle of New York City, scrolling through an advice column about "moving on" while simultaneously housing a carton of lemon sorbet. My roommate at the time, bless her heart, leaned over and said, “Girl, nobody gets off this ride without a few scrapes. Just don’t sit on the sidelines for too long.” She was right.

Heartaches are inevitable, but so is resilience. Like the marsh grass that bends with the wind but doesn’t break, we find our way back to hope—even if it takes a while. So, the next time your own gumbo (or dating life) falls apart, remember: you can’t rush a good roux, but it’s worth the effort to rebuild.

Connection: Love Is Both Art and Science (But Mostly Art)

Growing up in a Gullah Geechee community taught me that relationships are at their core about connection. Community gatherings were built on mutual respect, shared labor, and celebration—and now I see echoes of that in modern relationships. Whether romantic, platonic, or somewhere in between, connection asks for more than just physical proximity. It demands intention.

There’s this myth out there that love should be effortless, that “if it’s right, it’ll just click.” But in my experience—watching my grandparents’ decades-long marriage unfold like a novel—it’s way more nuanced. Connection is cultivated, like the sweetgrass baskets woven on Charleston street corners, strand by strand, patience by patience.

For example, during a low moment in my last relationship, my partner and I found ourselves squabbling over what seemed like a silly issue: I always wanted to hug him goodnight when he was too busy scrolling through Reddit. (Love in the 2020s, y’all.) Finally, after weeks of silent tension, we sat down and got to the root of it: I needed closeness while he needed decompression. Once that was cleared up, we restructured our evenings to reflect both of our needs. Did it take effort? Oh, yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely. Repeat after me: connection feels natural, but it’s also intentional.

Lessons From My Lowcountry Heart (AKA, Stop Thinking Love Is a Netflix Romance)

Living in Charleston all these years has taught me a lot about rhythm and patience. The tide rolls in and out, wildflowers push through cracks in the cobblestones, and relationships follow their own unpredictable cadences. Hollywood might tell us that love happens in 90 minutes with a Taylor Swift needle drop, but real-life connection is so much richer and stranger than that. If there’s one lesson I’d want to pass along, it’s that love—true, soul-deep love—is about learning, unlearning, and relearning who you are and how you show up for others.

Here’s how I strive to keep my belief system alive in this arena:
- Be Open to Change. Love evolves. Just like Charleston’s ever-shifting marshlands, relationships require flexibility. The “we” you think you’re building today might not be the same tomorrow, and that’s not a bad thing. Growth is the goal.
- Honor Your History. Love doesn’t start in a vacuum. Understanding your roots—and how they impact your love patterns—is key to moving forward. Whether it’s learning about your attachment style or identifying how family traditions shape your expectations, the past matters.
- Celebrate the Small Moments. Some of the best lessons I’ve learned about love don’t come from sweeping gestures but quiet ones: forehead kisses after a long day, sharing fries, laughing until your stomach hurts. The everyday magic is just as important as the grand ones.

At the end of the day, I write—and live—by these guiding lights because they matter endlessly to me. Whether you’re just starting to navigate the dizzying highs and lows of modern romance or you’ve been in a long-term relationship that feels like it’s losing spark, my hope for you is simple: Be authentic. Stay resilient. Build real, intentional connections.

And when all else fails? Channel your inner Charlestonian: take a breath, grab some sweet tea, reset, and try again. Let love be the slow-cooked stew that’s worth every stir.