"Your job must be so romantic!" If I had a dinar for every time someone said this to me, I’d be sipping Turkish coffee on a yacht in the Bosphorus right now. As a writer who explores relationships and cultural identity, I get it. The idea of spinning narratives about love and belonging sounds glamorous, even cinematic—think Penelope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona with a dash of Carrie Bradshaw. But let me tell you, the reality of my job is a little less frothy rom-com and a little more… late-night ramen surrounded by piles of notes.
Don’t get me wrong—I love what I do. But there’s a small gulf, let’s say, between what people think I do and what actually happens behind the scenes. Let’s set the record straight, shall we?
Myth 1: “You Write About Love, So You Must Be an Expert at It”
Reality: If only!
Writing about relationships does not make me Cupid in a trench coat doling out wisdom at cocktail parties. Sure, I’ve spent years dissecting the art of connection, poring over sociological studies, and interviewing people about vulnerability and intimacy. But guess what: that doesn’t make me immune to texting someone back exactly 72 seconds after they reply or replaying a one-syllable “hmmm” in my head for hours wondering if they’re mad.
Being a writer who focuses on love is less like reading from a perfect script and more like trying to debug a confusing app update—you understand the framework, but glitches? Oh, they still happen. For example, there was that time I was so caught up analyzing someone else’s bad date story for an article that I accidentally ghosted my own coffee meetup—not a proud moment.
Reality Check: Expertise and lived experience are two different beasts. I’ve come across theories, studies, and personal stories, but my own relationships are as messy and beautifully human as anyone else's. It’s okay to know the science behind attachment styles and still pick up the phone to karaoke Adele at 2 a.m. (just maybe not every weekend).
Myth 2: “You Must Write in a Parisian CafÉ, Sipping Espresso and Watching Lovers Kiss on the Seine”
Reality: Replace “café” with “my couch” and “espresso” with “slightly old tea.”
The fantasy here is intoxicating. I mean, who doesn’t want to picture me scribbling away in a notebook while accordion music plays softly in the background? And yes, I have had moments like this—usually the first day of a trip before jet lag sets in. But the bulk of my writing happens at home, specifically at 11 p.m. in fuzzy slippers, frantically trying to connect sentences over the sound of my upstairs neighbor vacuuming (seriously, who vacuums at night?).
Research is often just as unglamorous. I’ve spent hours jumping between academic journals and Reddit threads on modern dating norms. It’s fascinating, but it’s not the atmospheric montage you might imagine. Case in point: One time, I got so caught up reading about relationship behaviors across cultures that I approximately doubled my screen time for the week—and no, there wasn’t an enchanted riverbank picnic involved.
Reality Check: Romance writing isn’t all aesthetic spirals and bohemian candlelight. But if it’s any consolation, I’ve learned that love—in life and on the page—shows up best in the unfiltered moments, like when you unthinkingly pass your partner the perfectly toasted piece of bread because it just feels right.
Myth 3: “You Have All the Answers About Relationships”
Reality: I have some of the answers. Many of the questions. And a lot of Google tabs.
Here’s something most people don’t see in my profession: how much painstaking untangling it takes to present even a single piece of “wisdom.” Writing about relationships means constantly navigating contradictory advice, unfiltered inputs, and societal shifts. While some of it is enlightening (“Did you know Iceland’s dating culture is refreshingly no-nonsense?”), some of it will make you want to dive headfirst into a pint of ice cream (“Why does EVERY breakup release sparkly Instagram statements now?”).
To illustrate: Once, I spent eight hours investigating the staggering rise of passive-aggressive emojis in texting (looking at you, upside-down smiley). This led me to conclude that no, I cannot single-handedly figure out why your crush used the eggplant emoji “ironically.”
Reality Check: I don’t have a universal cheat sheet for heartaches or happily-ever-afters. What I do have is a collection of stories—my own and others—that remind me over and over how gloriously different each person’s journey is. And isn’t that the point? There’s no final exam where we all have to get it “right.”
Myth 4: “Your Job Is Nothing Like Real Work”
Reality: Fake news!
Some folks assume my days are spent lounging around pondering The Big Questions (What does love mean?). And sure, that happens… sometimes. But the bulk of my work involves, well, work. Structuring articles, editing dialogue, untangling messy drafts, and occasionally texting friends for sanity checks when I can’t figure out if a joke lands.
There’s also a persistent undercurrent of performance anxiety: will the advice I share resonate? Am I being inclusive enough in this piece? It’s a marathon of self-doubt occasionally punctuated by triumphant “aha!” moments when the words finally click together. Like love itself, writing isn’t just romantic—it’s labor.
Reality Check: Sure, love and relationships are colorful, fascinating themes to explore. But writing about them requires focus, discipline, and a serious sense of humor. When I’m reminded how deeply a piece resonates with someone, that’s when the marathon feels downright worth it.
Myth 5: “Your Perspective Feels Effortless!”
Reality: It took years—and a lot of delicious chaos—to get here.
One of the strangest myths about my job is that my unique “voice” just sort of… happens. People hear about my diverse upbringing—moving between Alexandria, Paris, Istanbul, and London—and think the cross-cultural insights must flow naturally from my fingers. Spoiler alert: They don’t. My passport may metaphorically overflow with stamps, but crafting meaningful takes on love, identity, and relationships is a process.
Take the year I lived in Istanbul, where I dove headfirst into exploring Turkish dating culture while researching family traditions. It was illuminating, sure, but also included the time a kindly older relative arranged a surprise introduction—which felt thrilling in theory but spiraled into a near-comedic misadventure when I quickly realized, "Oh wow, we have nothing in common." Take it from me: understanding cultural nuances doesn’t translate to acing love's pop quiz.
Reality Check: Culture and identity provide endless inspiration, but authenticity requires vulnerability—and yes, sometimes missteps. The “effortless” voice people read comes from years of wrangling drafts, trying (and failing) to dodge impostor syndrome, and simply aiming to speak truthfully.
Final Thoughts: Romance Meets Realness
There’s no denying that writing about relationships is rewarding and, at times, even thrilling. How could it not be, when love is the heartbeat of everything from fairytales to soap operas? But beneath the poetry is life—the messy, unpredictable, yet beautifully raw tangle of human connection. That’s where I live and work: in the spaces between myth and reality.
So, the next time someone tells me how romantic they think my job is, I’ll smile and say, “It is.” But quietly, I’ll remember the piles of drafts and mid-morning panic sessions behind every published piece. It turns out love, like this job, is hard-earned—but oh, so worth it.
