The Place That Made Me

Does every Southern girl have a love-hate relationship with her hometown? Or is that just me? Growing up in Dallas, a city of unapologetic bigness and charm, I couldn’t wait to leave. I swore I’d find love and adventure in places where cowboy hats weren’t a fashion accessory and where queso didn’t count as a fifth food group. But isn’t it funny how life has a way of pulling you back to the beginning? Not because it’s simple, but because it’s the place that built you—flaws, sparkle, and all.

Dallas isn’t exactly the first city people equate with romance or great life lessons, but trust me, it’s taught me plenty. And like any good life lesson, it didn’t come dressed in subtlety. Dallas slapped me upside the head with its gaudy glitz, its serious family expectations, and yes, its insistence that everything is bigger for a reason—including the dreams I’m chasing.

Here’s how the Big D shaped my little ol’ ideas about love, ambition, and the undeniable art of showing up for yourself.

The Glitz and Grit of Growing Up Dallas

Growing up in a household of high-achievers, my dinner table conversations were more “Breaking News” than “The Real Housewives of Dallas.” My parents ran on schedules tighter than a pair of jeans fresh out of the dryer. My dad would review medical articles with the enthusiasm most people save for bingeing Netflix dramas, while my mom, fueled by tall cups of coffee and sharper retorts than a Supreme Court brief, could argue anyone into submission.

They taught me that anything worth having takes effort—and I wouldn’t disagree. But as a teenager, what I really wanted was freedom from their polished, Type-A world. I’d sit on the lawn of my private school with my gossip-filled friends, flipping through glossy magazines, dreaming about being an adult woman in a big, vibrant city where no one asked me if I’d reviewed my SAT vocabulary words for the day.

Still, that hustle culture they modeled—embodied in the neatly manicured lawns and pristine yoga studios of Dallas—became the backbone of who I am today. Seeing how my parents built their world, brick by careful, hardworking brick, I realized that love isn’t just romance or grand gestures; it's steadiness, partnership, and loyalty. (Oh, and being able to compromise on who gets to pick the next family vacation destination. Top-tier life skill.)

Lessons in Love, Brought to You by Uptown Bars and White Wine

Fast-forward to my post-grad years when Dallas became less of a giant pressure cooker and more of a playground for figuring out life—and love. Dating in this city is, simply put, a contact sport. Uptown’s bougie cocktail bars taught me how to distinguish between “networking entrepreneur” (read: unemployed where it counts) and someone genuinely worth the time. Let me paint a picture:

  • Him: Owns six pairs of loafers, all with zero socks.
  • Me: Holding onto my Pinot Grigio for dear life, dodging his convoluted “start-up idea” pitch while nodding politely.

But here’s the thing. Between the laughs, the awkward first dates, and the ghosting incidents (let’s not discuss the Banana Republic guy—I’m not ready), I learned what it means to figure out what I want. And more importantly, what I won’t tolerate. The biggest lesson I got from dating in Dallas? Know who you are before you start trying to figure somebody else out.

And spoiler alert: it’s a lot easier to date authentically when you aren’t pretending that you’re cool with the whole “fancier steakhouse" scene if what you crave is taco joints with patios and paper plates. If someone doesn’t appreciate your taste in cheesy nachos, sis, they don’t deserve you.

Community is the Real Southern Charm

Here’s one thing Dallas gets absolutely right: building community. Whether it was neighborhood cookouts, church picnics, or being the honorary recipient of unsolicited dating advice from Miss Ruby down the street, there’s an unshakable sense of connection rooted in this city.

A while back, I went to a networking event (okay, it was a happy hour disguised as a networking event), and I asked the woman next to me, “Why does everyone in the room look so... put together?” She answered, without hesitation, “Darlin’, in Dallas, we don’t show up half-ready for anything. We don’t just polish our shoes; we polish our whole lives.”

At the time, I rolled my eyes. But honestly? She wasn’t wrong. Dallas folk know the value of putting in effort—not for perfection, but because it shows you care. About your presence. About your time. About the people around you.

Relationships work the same way. They’re built on showing up—even when it’s not convenient, even when it’s imperfect. Dallas is a city that demands effort, and I learned that long-lasting love demands the same thing. Effort, patience, and a good mascara wand never fail, y’all.

Coming Home to Myself

After living in Washington, D.C., and Austin, I returned to Dallas almost begrudgingly. But something changed when I put down my suitcases and stepped back into my hometown. Where I once saw pressure, I now saw ambition. Where I once rolled my eyes at tradition, I now saw roots with purpose. Dallas wasn’t just somewhere I grew up—it was the foundation for every part of me.

This city cheered for my ambition, challenged my beliefs, and gave me a front-row seat to romance lessons—sometimes messy, sometimes sweet, but always meaningful. Without Dallas, I wouldn’t have the grit to chase dreams, the humor to laugh through awkward dates, or the appreciation for those small gestures of Southern tenderness that people sometimes overlook.

It’s where I learned that we’re all just trying to find our way—and we’re allowed to do it imperfectly. Even if we’re sweating in 100-degree heat while stuck in traffic on Central Expressway.

Final Thoughts from a Big D Believer

Sure, Dallas made me. In good ways, in tough ways, and in the complicated in-between moments that remind you it’s okay to feel a little conflicted about where you come from. But what really matters is that it’s helped me come back to myself.

Do I still roll my eyes at the excess sometimes? Absolutely. But do I also know how to savor each over-the-top moment, the warmth of connection, and the beauty of choosing love—whether that love is for a partner, a place, or yourself? Without a doubt.

So here’s what I say to anyone navigating their story in their hometown or beyond: Give it space to teach you. Let it show you not only where you’ve been but where you’re meant to go next. And through it all, show up for yourself—cowboy hat optional.