Between the Flatirons and the Rain: Navigating Duality in Love and Life

I once read that the human heart is like the Colorado sky. You can wake up to blazing sun, experience a sudden hailstorm by lunch, and end your day watching the most mind-blowing sunset—all within twelve hours. It struck me because, as someone who’s often lived a life of “both/and,” I’ve learned that the best things come not from choosing one path, but from dancing between them.

For me, the experience of living between worlds isn’t a poetic choice—it’s my reality. Boulder raised me on wild sagebrush landscapes and potlucks featuring tofu casseroles, while my first adult job in Seattle dunked me head-first into craft coffee culture and the overcast buzz of city life. Oh, and don’t get me started on the romantic dualities I’ve negotiated—the free-spirited artist in me falling for type-A planners with Google Calendar tattoos, the adventurous mountaineer in me romancing people who think “camping” comes with a spa package.

Living between worlds is messy, my friends, but messy doesn’t mean bad. It means real. And in relationships—whether with lovers, friends, or yourself—learning to live in that in-between space is where all the magic happens. Let me show you around.

1. The Push-and-Pull of Home and Hustle

Let’s start with geography—the easiest duality for me to explain. I could list every reason I love Boulder: the smell of pine after a rainstorm, three breweries for every block, and mornings where I can bike to a farmer’s market for fresh peaches. But when I lived in Seattle, I discovered something I hadn’t realized I was missing: anonymity. The chance to order pho on a random Thursday without running into my middle school history teacher. The grit and energy of a city where no one cares that I once got voted “Most Likely to Live in a Yurt.”

Dating while caught between these two loves is complicated. When I was seeing someone back in my Boulder days—a Millennial Terry Tempest Williams type—our dates looked like trail runs, thrift shops, and organic fair-trade sushi. When I fell for someone in Seattle, they were thrilled by the shiny downtown high-rises and threw out words like “hustle culture” and “disruption” unironically. They wanted sushi, too—just very expensive sushi, eaten as fast as possible before rushing to the next networking event.

What I learned from toggling between these settings is this: Instead of trying to sell yourself as one thing, embrace your split ends. Own that you can pack camping gear and a blazer into your overnight bag. Don’t hide the parts of your identity that seem like contradictions: they’re not. They’re dimensions.

Miles’ Tip: On your next date, whether it’s a hike or happy hour, talk about your “other side.” Introduce the idea that you’re more than your ZIP code. The right person won’t see your duality as baggage—they’ll see it as intrigue.

2. Relationships Live in the Gray (and That’s Okay)

Ever dated someone who’s your complete opposite? I have. For me, the adventure isn’t just in climbing mountains; it’s in falling for people who make you question your choices instead of mirroring them. One of my longest relationships was with someone who despised nature. Couldn’t stand dirt. Refused to own a single pair of hiking boots, much less wear them.

Meanwhile, every time I invited this person on hikes, they countered with offers of bottomless mimosa brunches in our very paved downtown neighborhood. You’d think we were doomed—and hey, sometimes we were a hot mess—but here’s why it worked for a lot longer than anyone (ourselves included) thought possible: We didn’t force ourselves to match. We created overlapping Venn diagrams of understanding instead.

He didn’t have to start hugging trees, and I didn’t have to develop strong brunch opinions. Instead, we met in the middle. Saturday mornings were for the farmer’s market (my choice), with nights capped off by a movie at the indie theater (his pick). Not everything should be a compromise, but healthy love loves the liminal spaces.

Miles’ Tip: Embrace the differences in your relationship with practical creativity. Maybe you swap every-other-date plans or introduce your partner to something new they might actually like (key word: might). Instead of redefining yourself to fit someone else’s mold, focus on reshaping the possibilities in the middle.

3. Individual vs. Couple Identity: Who Am I Without You?

Ah, here comes the soul-searching part of duality—the hardest to articulate and the most important to face. In relationships, you’re constantly balancing me versus we. (If you’ve ever turned down a “guys’ night” to watch “Selling Sunset” with your S.O., you know what I mean.) It’s natural to blend lives over time, but let me share a story about what happens when you blend too much.

When I met someone who also happened to adore the Colorado outdoors, I thought I’d hit the jackpot. We spent all our free time together: climbing, camping, planting vegetables in her backyard. It was incredible—until I realized I hadn’t called my best friends in two months, turned down a solo trip to Moab, and started drinking herbal tea with honey because she liked it that way. I’d become part of her world at the expense of my own.

Ironically, it wasn’t until our breakup that I remembered who I was outside the couple framework. She wasn’t the problem—I was. I’d let all my solo passions fade into the background. Love can’t last without balance, and that balance starts with carving out space to nurture the you that existed pre-coupledom.

Miles’ Tip: Make a solo date with yourself this week—no plus-one attached. Take yourself to your favorite bookstore, drive out to a spot with killer views and journal, or even hit up a taco stand for a quiet lunch on your own terms. A grounded self creates a stronger bond in any relationship.

4. Finding Joy in Duality

Listen, life doesn’t come with a blueprint, and balancing dualities is less about finding perfect harmony and more about wobbling your way to something that works. Whether you’re navigating two hometowns, two hearts, or two visions of your future, the space between worlds is where the growth happens. It’s like being on the wobbly bridge between the Flatirons and the skyscrapers of any big city—it may sway a little, but it’s going to give you one hell of a view.

So here’s my advice, fellow dual-dwellers: Lean into the contradictions. Stop asking whether it’s better to be one thing or the other. Instead, find the rhythm of being both. You’re not just someone who hates spreadsheets but loves road trips, or someone who volunteers at a soup kitchen but also loves a truly trashy rom-com. You’re all of it, the full package. And the best connections—romantic or otherwise—will love you because of, not despite, your wonderfully mixed-up, between-worlds self.

Miles’ Final Thought: Every relationship, every personal journey, and every choice is an act of discovery. Trust the push-and-pull. The gray areas aren’t where you lose yourself—they’re where you finally find something real.