What I Stand For

A Southern Compass for Modern Love

I grew up where the ocean kisses the sand and small-town charm battles beach-town chaos. When I think about where my personal values sit—and how they're woven into my writing—it’s hard not to picture my childhood summers on the Grand Strand. Picture little me running plates of shrimp tacos out to tourists at my parents’ beachfront café, only to retreat later with a notebook, scribbling stories about mysterious characters strolling the boardwalk.

That mix of the bustling and the introspective? It’s still my driving force. Whether I’m writing about connection, heartbreak, or the art of lasting love, my perspective is built on something that feels as steady as the tides: authenticity, empathy, and (when appropriate) a dash of good, self-deprecating humor.

So, let me show you around the foundations of what I believe—my homemade roadmap for writing, relationships, and life itself.

Authenticity Above All

Growing up in a small-town café, you learn quickly that pretending to be something you’re not isn’t worth the headache. Tourists might have been fooled (briefly) by a sunny “locals only” story here or there, but long-time residents? They always saw through the performance—and let’s not even talk about my mom’s all-seeing glare.

This same no-nonsense approach applies to my writing and my outlook on relationships. People can spot a fake faster than you can blink, whether it’s in a forced “fun fact” on a dating profile or a contrived story about why you suddenly need to borrow their car. Real connection, whether romantic or otherwise, starts with owning who you are—quirks, flaws, beach-kid proclivities, and all.

Authenticity also means asking hard questions: Would you invite this person into your softest, weirdest moments, or are you just trying to tick a box for “couple goals” Instagram posts? Be brave enough to say no when it feels off. Trust me—better to spend Saturday mornings strolling a farmer’s market solo than forcing something that doesn’t actually fit.

Empathy is Sexy

If loving the sound of someone else’s story was a sport, I’d have a gold medal by now. Between growing up in a café (hello, a front-row seat to the strangers-telling-strangers-their-life-stories phenomenon) and working in the hospitality industry, I’ve seen how listening with intention can bridge everything from cultural divides to awkward first dates. Empathy’s the sauce that makes humans click—it turns dinner into a romance novel starter scene, and it’s the key ingredient in getting past the surface with someone.

In relationships, empathy shines brightest in small moments:

  • The “What’s Wrong?” Check-In. Your partner’s unusually quiet after work. Do you brush it off or offer them the space to unwind and share their day?
  • Celebrating Like It’s Yours. It’s not your promotion, but damn if you aren’t eating those congratulations cookies like you signed the contract yourself.
  • Choosing Curiosity Over Assumption. They love a band you secretly hate. Instead of groaning at their playlist, you ask what song reminds them of high school (and then you listen, even if it grates).

It’s like beachcombing. Not everything glinting in the sand is going to be treasure—but you won’t know unless you pick it up and look closer. Relationships work the same way: get curious, stay open, and don’t assume the worst from an initial impression.

Laughter Is Relationship Fuel

My first crush called me “Crab Legs.” This might sound terrible, but here’s the thing: I wore oversized crab-patterned sandals exclusively for two months as a kid. Instead of stomping away in embarrassment, I doubled down on my love of seafood fashion…and wound up adding a sense of humor to my budding attraction checklist.

You don’t need a perfect “type,” but let me argue that the ability to laugh together SHOULD be non-negotiable. Humor acts like WD-40: it loosens the hard, stuck places so you can actually solve a problem together. It’s also an antidote to the inevitable awkwardness of trying to merge two different lives.

Let’s face it, dating is awkward. You’re figuring out how they take their coffee, which Avengers movie they’re weirdly obsessed with, what childhood TV theme song plays in their head during tough moments—it’s a lot. But if you can laugh through it, suddenly those quirks make you lean in instead of pulling away.

Some of my favorite examples:

  • That time I tripped on the boardwalk and my date said, “If you were a seagull, they’d revoke your wings.” We laughed until I cried.
  • The ex who joined me in waxing poetic about how Waffle House hashbrowns are a love language. No regrets.
  • My current partner? He’s game for doing corny impressions of tourist-trap slogans with me in the car. It honestly seals the deal every time.

Don’t underestimate how far human ridiculousness can take you. Laughter doesn’t just connect people; it reminds you life isn’t as serious as we sometimes make it out to be.

Romance Starts with the Self

I know, I know. This is where I risk sounding all Eat Pray Love or quoting Instagram poetry. Hang with me for a second. What I mean by “romance starts with the self” isn’t about booking some elaborate solo spa getaway (though, hey, those are cool). It’s about paying attention to what makes you feel most alive and prioritizing that first.

For me, it’s saltwater and paperbacks: an unhurried afternoon with my toes in soft white sand, a good book in hand, and the occasional people-watching break. I’m happiest when I don’t have to rush to the next thing—and when I’ve actively chosen that life for myself, I find I’m better at choosing the people who belong in it.

Here’s my personal checklist that’s helped me prioritize myself before diving into connections:

  • What Brings You Joy? Make time for it, like you’re blocking out time for your closest friend. (Yes, even if that means saying “no” sometimes!)
  • What’s Your Shoreline? It doesn’t have to be literal water—what’s that one place that makes you feel centered and at peace? Find it, and go often.
  • Can You Sit with Your Own Company? If you find yourself uncomfortable being alone, explore why that might be. There’s so much magic in fitting into your own skin.

When we set the stage for joy and fulfillment in solo moments, we’re better equipped to invite someone new into the picture. It’s not about completing your puzzle—it’s about holding your own finished frame and seeing who wants to join in building something together.

The Grand Strand Takeaway

Relationships are messy, beautiful, ridiculous adventures. I’ve busted my fair share of swings on the dating playground, from early mistakes in confusing infatuation with substance to moments where I let self-doubt disrupt a perfectly good connection. Through it all, what I stand for today feels clear: Be real, stay curious, laugh a hell of a lot, and always come back to yourself.

If you leave with just one piece of advice, make it this: the strongest bonds don’t rely on perfect pictures or grand theatrical moments. They build through a million small, imperfect, endearing ones.

You’re not finding connection—you’re developing it with every messy, authentic, empathetic, and maybe slightly awkward attempt. Think of it as life’s biggest beachfront carousel: the charm is in the ride, not just the scenic views. Happy spinning.