“You’re too… much.”

Those were the words. Just three of them, tossed into a text message like confetti at a party I wasn’t invited to attend. The message popped up on my phone screen late one summer evening, years ago, while I was holding court at my favorite café in Berlin—a perfect little hideaway dripping in industrial chic and third-wave coffee culture. I was halfway through crafting a playlist that oscillated between Erykah Badu and obscure Berlin techno when my phone buzzed. I initially thought it was a meme from one of my Yale friends or a quick check-in from my mom, who still worries when I’m out after 9 PM. But instead, it was a romantic goodbye, tucked into a tidy, devastating package.

Too much what? I remember thinking. Too opinionated? Too ambitious? Too enthusiastic about explaining the subtle genius of James Baldwin over espresso martinis? As I let those words marinate—and, okay, maybe replayed the notification ringtone on loop in my head—I realized the problem wasn’t that I didn’t know who I was. It’s that I wasn’t fully owning it.

That was the moment that changed everything.

The Cheesecake Factory Version of Me

Let me rewind for some context. At this particular juncture in my life, I considered myself a jack-of-all-trades dater. I could adjust my personality for whoever was sitting across from me, much like The Cheesecake Factory menu adjusting to literally every cuisine. A spirited creative with a soft spot for indie films? I could quote A24 movies. A finance bro determined to make junior partner? Get me started on fintech. Someone deeply spiritual dabbling in yoga retreats? Namaste, babe.

I was morphing, constantly curating and recalibrating myself depending on the situation. On one hand, flexibility is a gift—Brooklyn-raised kids like me know how to navigate melting-pot environments with ease. But on the other hand, there’s a point when all that shapeshifting has you asking, Wait, who am I happy being when no one’s around?

That pivotal “too much” moment happened because I was trying so hard to match someone else's vibe that I lost track of my own beat. And wow, isn’t that just dating in a nutshell? We spend so much time wondering if someone will like us that we forget to ask if we even like them.

Here’s the kicker: I wasn’t even mad at the person who sent the text. I was mad at myself… because they weren’t wrong.

The Post-Breakup Renaissance

The morning after that message, I went on what can only be described as a reckoning walk. You know the type: earbuds in, wearing an outfit that suggests "casual despair" (mine involved a black hoodie and sunglasses the size of dinner plates), pacing through Kreuzberg like I was the main character in a coming-of-age indie film. Somewhere between track 3 of Frank Ocean's Blonde and passing a woman walking a miniature Schnauzer, I decided I needed to get real—both with myself and in how I showed up for relationships.

That meant owning who I was unapologetically. Loving literature more than social climbing? Check. Watching old Spike Lee films on repeat? Check. Wanting to talk about Berlin’s creative subcultures while also openly admitting my love for late-night pizza? Huge check. I didn’t need to dull my edges to make someone else feel comfortable.

The realization hit me like a rom-com montage in reverse: Before I could expect real connection, I had to show up fully. No filters, no strategic dimming of my quirks. Just me, in all my bookish, slightly sarcastic glory.

Rewrite Your (Dating) Bio Like You Mean It

With this new philosophy fresh in my mind, I did the one thing dating coach TikTok might as well tattoo on your forehead: I rewrote my online dating profile. But I didn’t just slap on a few witty one-liners and hope for the best. My goal was to create a profile that would scare off the wrong people and spark interest with the right ones.

Here’s how I did it:

1. Stop Trying to Be Vanilla

It’s tempting to play it safe online. You know, listing generic hobbies like “traveling” and “spending time with friends.” (Groundbreaking.) But here’s the thing: Basic bio energy attracts basic matches. Instead, inject your personality into every section of that profile.

For instance, instead of lazily saying “I love reading,” I wrote: “Former English lit kid here. If you’ve got opinions on Baldwin vs. Murakami or a hot take on why Fitzgerald deserves both more and less hype, let’s debate.” It was upfront, honest, and very me.

Tip: Lead with something specific. Love hiking? Cool. Do you also bring trail mix that’s 80% M&Ms and zero regrets? Now we’re getting interesting.

2. Use Your Photos to Tell a Story

Profiles aren’t just lists; they’re narratives. I swapped the predictable “posed against sunset” pictures (#vibes) for authentic moments: me with chaos hair in front of my bookshelf, dancing in a Brooklyn warehouse during a DJ set, and—yes—the obligatory coffee shop laptop shot because, let’s face it, that’s my natural habitat.

Tip: Showcase scenes from your real life, not airbrushed glimpses of who you think you should be. People want to connect with authenticity, not Instagram highlights.

3. Write Like You’re on the Apps to Win, Not Just Survive

The apps can feel like a brutal battlefield of ghosters, one-liners, and people whose opening messages consist entirely of “Hey.” But instead of writing defensively (ugh, please be normal), write offensively: bold, confident, and, most importantly, fun.

For example, my profile prompt about what I’m looking for led with this gem: "A partner-in-crime for bookstore crawls and mediocre—but deeply enthusiastic—karaoke duets. Bonus points if you can tolerate my penchant for debating whether Taylor Swift qualifies as a modern-day storyteller.”

It set the tone—and, let me tell you, the responses? Chef’s kiss.

The Results Were Surprisingly… Human

Here’s the part where I’m supposed to tell you that within two weeks, rewriting my profile led to meeting The One, accompanied by some rom-com soundtrack swelling in the background. But this isn’t Hollywood. This is your friendly neighborhood Brooklyn literary nerd telling you the real magic: Finally showing up as myself on these apps felt liberating. (Also? I’m 90% sure my therapist fist-pumped when I told her about it.)

Not every match turned into The Great Love Story. Some faded out, some politely didn’t click, and a few didn’t even know who James Baldwin was—but that in itself became an excellent compatibility filter. The point wasn’t about landing a perfect match. It was about realizing how good it felt to fully inhabit my sense of self in a world that often tempts you to dilute it.

Be the “Too Much” You Deserve

There’s this false narrative out there that dating success comes from being the most palatable version of yourself—the smooth peanut butter in a sea of crunchy personalities. But here’s your reminder, straight from one “too much” personality to another: Embrace your crunchy bits. Be specific. Be irreverent. Be quirky. And yes, be willing to scare people off.

Why? Because the right match—the person you genuinely click with—won’t flinch. They’ll read your full syllabus of quirks and interests and think, Yeah, that’s my vibe.

So, the next time you’re tempted to shrink yourself to fit into someone else’s life, remember: Too much of the right thing is exactly enough. Go own that. You’re worth it.