There I was, saddle-deep in mud, clinging to the reins of a stubborn horse named Daisy who clearly thought she knew better than me. It was shaping up to be one of those days: overcast skies, a steady drizzle, and the distinct aroma of regret wafting off my rain-soaked boots. It was a Thursday afternoon, and I was guiding a trail ride through the foothills outside Jackson. Most of my guests were wide-eyed tourists, ready to snap iPhone photos of wildflowers they couldn’t name. But one rider, a no-nonsense Midwesterner named Sharon, wouldn’t stop firing off questions: “How high are these mountains?” “What happens if we see a bear?” And finally: “So, what’s next for you, cowboy?”

What’s next for me? The question hit harder than I expected, mostly because I had no idea how to answer it. At 22, life was less ‘John Wayne Western’ and more ‘unpublished coming-of-age script.’ I was weeks away from graduating college, and while my degree in Wildlife Biology made me good at identifying birdsong in my sleep, it wasn’t exactly screaming job security. My dating life was equally muddy, stuck somewhere between swiping aimlessly on Tinder and telling myself I was too busy to date (spoiler: I wasn’t). But Sharon’s question stuck with me. Later that night, while sitting at my desk with a mug of lukewarm coffee, I scribbled in my journal: “What’s next?” It was the pivotal moment that made me realize I was holding the reins—not just on Daisy, but in my life, too.

Why Big Questions Deserve Big Choices

That moment triggered some serious introspection. You know the kind—where you sit down with yourself and sort through what’s working and what’s not, like organizing a messy drawer. I realized I’d been drifting, relying on routines and half-hearted excuses to dodge the hard stuff. What did I want from life? Who did I want to be?

For starters, I decided to stop waiting for life (and love) to “just happen.” I’d take an active role in shaping my story. Maybe it was growing up watching sunsets in the silence of Wyoming’s open spaces, but I’ve always believed that growth happens in those quiet moments where you ask yourself the hard questions. Spoiler alert: it’s nerve-wracking. But also, spoiler alert: it’s worth it.

For me, the first step was trying something both painfully honest and unexpectedly hopeful: I made an online dating profile.

Online Dating: The Wild Frontier

Making that leap was harder than wrangling an ornery mare. Not because I thought dating apps were bad (I mean, where else are introverts supposed to meet people?), but because putting myself out there felt like handing a stranger the map to my insecure little heart. Still, inspired by Sharon’s nudge, I opened my laptop, poured another mug of coffee, and started typing. Here’s what I learned so you don’t have to make the same awkward missteps I did.

1. Start With the Real You

I’ll admit, my first attempt at a profile was… not great. I thought I needed to be “impressive,” so I wrote something polished but impersonal. Think: “Park ranger by day, nature enthusiast by night. Let’s explore the wild together!” It was fine, but bland. It didn’t sound like me—I mean, where was the part about my addiction to pancakes or how I once got chased by a moose while trying to take a selfie?

Here’s the thing: People connect with authenticity. Share the quirks that make you, you. Whether it’s an obscure hobby (birdwatching, anyone?) or the fact that you own three pairs of cowboy boots, those are the details that spark real conversations.

Some starters: - Your favorite weekend activity. - A specific, weird-but-endearing story. - A question people can respond to: “Pancakes or waffles? The wrong answer is waffles.”

2. Your Photos Are the Hook, So Choose Wisely

In the online dating world, your photos are like bait on the line—choose them well, or you’ll be left swiping endlessly into the void. As tempting as it might be to whip out your best rock-climbing shot without context, balance is key. I made that mistake initially, and let’s just say I got more questions about the safety of my harness than my favorite books.

Pro tips: - Include at least one clear headshot where you look approachable. Preferably without sunglasses or an expression that screams “mugshot.” - Balance “active” shots with something casual, like you smiling at brunch or walking your dog. (In my case, I threw myself up on horseback—it felt right.) - Avoid group photos where it’s unclear which one is you. No one wants to play Where’s Waldo with your dating profile.

3. Be Witty, But Keep It Real

Over the years, I’ve received every piece of advice under the sun about humor in dating: “Be funny, but not too funny,” “Avoid sarcasm,” “Leave out the dad jokes.” Want to know the truth? Just be yourself. If you’re someone who quotes “The Office” like an honorary Dunder Mifflin employee, or whose dream date involves smuggling movie snacks into a double feature, own it.

Here’s the trick: balance lighthearted humor with a sprinkle of substance. For example: - “Professional wildlife nerd with a talent for incorrectly assembling IKEA furniture. Lover of coffee and hiking—the two essential fuels of life.” - “Let’s exchange book recommendations and argue about which season of Yellowstone is the best. (Hint: it’s season one.)”

Humor shows personality, but sincerity keeps people interested.

Taking the Leap (And Holding the Reins)

The real game-changer wasn’t just clicking “Publish” on my dating profile—it was the mindset shift behind it. I’d gone from being the guy who let life push him around, to the guy who showed up for himself. And you know what? That confidence radiates. (It also gets easier to laugh at the awkward first dates and ghost-text scenarios when you’re grounded in your self-worth.)

If you’re reading this and wondering if it’s too late to grab your own reins, let me be the first to tell you that it’s not. Whether you’re crafting dating profiles, building connections, or just figuring out your next big move, it all starts with one pivotal decision: to show up. For yourself. For the life you want. And maybe for that quirky Midwesterner who messages you about Daisy, asking if horseback riding lessons are in the cards.

Because here’s the thing they don’t tell you in rom-coms: the journey matters just as much as the destination. Every awkward moment, every courageous step—they shape you. So, saddle up, partner. The reins are in your hands now.