Sometimes, figuring out what you truly can’t live without feels like a question on a bad first date. You know, the ones where someone asks you for your desert island essentials and expects you to announce a gripping combination of “War and Peace,” a Swiss Army knife, and potable water. But let’s get real—you’re more likely to choose noise-canceling headphones, frozen pizza, and all eight seasons of Gilmore Girls. At least, I would.

The truth is, our personal essentials say a lot about us. They’re the objects, rituals, and odd comforts that make life feel authentically ours. In my case, a lot of mine seem to be tied to relationship moments—those things that bring me back to connection, intimacy, and a sense of story that lingers long after the moment’s passed. So, with a little humor and a dash of sentimentality, here are the things I unapologetically can’t live without.

1. My Grandfather’s Watch

You’d think growing up in a town like Nantucket, I’d be all about maritime compasses or pocket-sized sextants. But for me, it’s my grandfather’s watch—a sturdy relic of mid-century craftsmanship that somehow embodies every lesson he ever patiently tried to teach me, from tying sailor’s knots to apologizing like you mean it.

The thing about watches is that they tick—unlike ghosts of past relationships, who tend to linger silently in the background of your life, popping up only when your favorite pizza place happens to share their name. But when I wear this watch, I’m reminded to be present, whether I’m sitting across from a cute dinner date or explaining to my dog why I can’t share my sandwich. There’s something grounding about a timepiece that feels like it could survive the apocalypse—a dependable guy, unlike certain exes I could name but won’t. (Matt. His name was Matt. Sorry, Matt.)

2. My battered, dog-eared copy of “Moby-Dick”

Yes, I know, “Moby-Dick.” Cliché for a history nerd from Nantucket? Absolutely. But there’s a romance to it—a relentless quest for something that feels just out of reach. Sound like modern dating? It should.

This book isn’t just about some guy with supervillain energy chasing a whale; it’s about everything—obsession, loss, desire, courage, bad leadership decisions. A heck of a metaphor for relationships, right? Whenever I feel stuck, trying to figure out whether it’s time to swipe left on a bad habit or reinvest in what’s right before me, I rethink Ahab and his choices. Spoiler: chasing the unattainable at the expense of your sanity never works out. I’d like to think that lesson has, at the very least, improved my texting habits.

3. A Comfortable Pair of Walking Shoes

Walking through relationships—or life, for that matter—without comfortable shoes is asking for heartbreak and blisters. There’s an Edith Wharton quote buried somewhere in the attic of my brain about walking being the closest thing to flying, and I couldn’t agree more.

Some of my best moments with people I’ve loved—romantically or platonically—have unfolded during long walks. On the cobblestone streets of Edinburgh, a city as brooding as a poet with unreciprocated feelings, or on the soft sands of Siasconset here on Nantucket, I’ve found that walking side by side eases even the hardest conversations. Shoes are the unsung heroes of emotional accessibility. Find the right pair, and you’ll never slow down, even when the people walking beside you change along the way.

4. A Tangle of Sea Glass

As a kid, I’d wander Nantucket’s beaches, keeping an eye out for the elusive green or cobalt-blue sea glass. My collection lives in a jar by my desk now, shimmering like tiny talismans of hope and resilience. If that isn’t a metaphor for relationships, I don’t know what is.

Sea glass starts out as a piece of something broken—discarded, forgotten, seemingly useless. But time and persistence turn it into something beautiful, softened at the edges. It’s a reminder that even our sharpest heartbreaks can become the loveliest parts of us—if we let them. Sometimes, if I’m texting a friend going through a rough breakup or a crush that’s fizzled out before it began, I’ll offer to send them one. So far, no one’s said no.

5. My Favorite Ll Bean Sweater

Some people say they want someone who feels like "home,” but you don’t truly appreciate what that means until you’re sobbing into their shoulder in an airport at midnight because you’ve just dropped your boarding pass somewhere near the Cinnabon stand. For me, this sweater IS home. Soft, practical, and bearing the faint scent of salty ocean air no matter how often I wash it, it’s kept me warm through hurricanes, Scottish winters, and the occasional awkward “State of the Relationship” discussion.

The thing is, comfort matters—a lot. For years, I thought dating was about dazzling people with my adventurous streak or showcasing my intellectual depth through carefully curated opinions on 19th-century maritime law. Nope. Turns out, the magic is in those moments when someone sees the messy, sweater-wearing version of you and still wants to curl up next to you on the couch.

6. Stationery: An Ode to the Lost Art of the Love Note

Call me old-fashioned, but nothing beats the charm of a handwritten note. Sure, a perfectly placed emoji can flirt its way into someone’s heart, but paper? Ink? That’s timeless. When I lived in Edinburgh, I’d buy thick, creamy cardstock and write letters the way 19th-century sailors wrote to the ones they left behind—overflowing with exaggerated sentiment and entirely too many commas.

There’s something about the permanence of it. A text is fleeting, something you can ghost or delete. But a letter? That stays. I still have one ex’s note tucked in a book at my bedside. No, we didn’t last, but it reminds me that once upon a time, someone thought enough of me to take the time and write.

7. My Dog, Archie

Could a list like this even exist without mentioning my actual ride-or-die partner? Archie has seen me at my worst (tripping over my own feet on a date) and my best (finally learning to flirt without second-guessing myself). He is, without question, the most consistent relationship in my life—loyal, intuitive, and always thrilled to see me walking through the door.

Even in dating, Archie has proved helpful. Turns out, “Would you like to meet my dog?” is an excellent icebreaker and weeds out the people who lack appreciation for my preferred lifestyle of canine-accompanied walks and snacking. Just don’t tell Archie I called him an icebreaker or he’ll expect royalties.

8. A Journal—and the Margins of Every Draft Novel I’ll Never Finish

Writing always reveals what’s brewing under the surface of my thoughts, even when I don’t want it to. It’s cheaper than therapy and sometimes delivers better advice (though I suspect my therapist would frown at that comparison).

A few years ago, I wrote a scene in a draft novel where two characters held hands for the first time under the constellation-studded sky of a whaling dock. I didn’t realize until later that I was romanticizing a very real moment with someone from my own life—someone long gone. Most writing does that: it excavates truth, sometimes reluctantly, but always eventually.

Conclusion: Building a Life That Reflects You

So, there you have it—the essentials that keep me grounded, centered, and occasionally reminded that human connection is what stitches together all the separate parts of us. Whether sentimental or practical, they’ve helped me navigate missteps, miscommunications, and the hilarity of being human.

But here’s the thing: your list doesn’t have to match mine. Maybe your essentials are an espresso machine, a pair of noise-canceling earbuds, and an uncanny talent for untangling earbuds (a skill I highly recommend featuring on your dating profile). Build your life—even your littlest comforts—around what makes you you. That, above all, is the essence of lasting connection.