What People Get Wrong About My Job
If you tell someone you’re a writer, chances are they’ll picture you in one of two scenarios: either you’re perched at a café table, latte in hand, gazing out the window dreamily as inspiration strikes, or you’re brooding in your perfectly messy Brooklyn brownstone, surrounded by vinyl records and half-burned candles. Both sound romantic, and both are so wrong it’s almost laughable. The truth? Being a writer, especially for a publication about dating and relationships, is equal parts grit, caffeine consumption, and, honestly, a surprising number of emails about deadlines.
But what’s really fascinating to me is how wildly misunderstood my job is—not just by people outside the industry but even within it. So, consider this your backstage pass to the glamorless but endlessly fascinating world of being a relationship writer. Spoiler: it’s messier, more chaotic, and, ultimately, more rewarding than you’d think.
1. Myth: We’re experts on love. Reality: My track record would like a word.
You’d think writing about relationships means I have love all figured out, right? Wrong. My exes would likely queue up with popcorn to laugh at that assumption. Seriously, my last relationship ended after we got into a passive-aggressive Cold War over who finished the last oat milk. (It was me, and no, I didn’t tell him.)
But here’s the truth: you don’t need to have the Perfect Relationship™ to offer useful relationship advice. In fact, I think having a fully human, flawed, and occasionally ridiculous experience with love makes me better at this job. I’ve lived through enough awkward first dates and arguments over whose turn it is to buy toilet paper to empathize with readers.
Here’s the kicker: a lot of what we write isn’t about “solving” relationships like a math equation. Nobody (not even your favorite TikTok therapist) has all the answers. What we do is help people ask the right questions, reflect on their own experiences, and navigate situations with a little more clarity and hopefully, a lot more humor.
2. Myth: Our ideas appear out of nowhere, like magic. Reality: It's more like assembling IKEA furniture (but without instructions).
Pop culture loves the idea of the writer hit with a stroke of genius somewhere in the middle of the night. Cue the dramatic montage: I scribble notes furiously on a napkin or crash my bike in Central Park because I’m too lost in thought about some grand idea for an article. Cute, but nope.
Here’s how it actually happens: I sit down with a Word doc, type out “What People Get Wrong About My Job,” immediately get distracted by Instagram, and return to the doc 40 minutes later hoping the inspiration fairy has paid me a visit. Instead, I’m greeted by my own blank screen.
Ideas take time. They’re messy. Sometimes they’re sparked by a random conversation with a friend, like when a buddy recently told me, “Dating now feels like buying a pair of jeans you hope will fit, but you can only try them on after the return policy expires.” Bingo: that’s content gold. Other times, my editor will casually email, “Hey, can you talk about emotional availability but make it funny?” Sure, no pressure.
My process to turn chaos into coherence involves lots of brainstorming, staring at my bookshelf for pretentious inspiration (thanks, James Baldwin), and consuming an alarming amount of sour gummies. Writing isn’t magic—it’s work. Work I love, but still work.
3. Myth: It’s all about giving advice. Reality: It’s also therapy—for me.
Confession: A lot of articles I write are me trying to work out my own stuff. Let me explain before you decide you’ll never trust anything I say about dating again.
When I write about navigating breakups or why vulnerability is the secret sauce to lasting connection, I’m not sitting on some mountaintop of enlightenment. I’m right there in the trenches with you. A recent piece I wrote about setting boundaries? Yeah, that was drafted while psyching myself up to tell someone I didn’t want a second date. Writing about these topics forces me to stop and think: Am I walking my talk?
And sometimes, it turns into a feedback loop. Readers will message me with their perspectives, and I realize I’ve missed an angle that totally makes sense. It’s humbling—and as much as I like being the one dishing out advice, I genuinely love these moments. Writing about relationships connects me to others in a way that feels deeply personal.
4. Myth: We’re here to teach you rules. Reality: Rules are overrated.
Anyone who tells you “text back in exactly 2.5 hours” or “play hard to get for maximum attraction” has either read too much bad rom-com advice or secretly works in marketing for egg timers. Love isn’t a straight line, and anyone pretending it is probably spends their weekends alphabetizing their sock drawer.
I’m more interested in what makes dating and relationships beautifully messy—and helping readers feel comfortable enough to live in that mess. Want to text first? Go for it. Don’t feel a spark halfway through the date? Be honest and leave (politely).
There’s no formula. What works for one person might blow up in someone else’s face. The beauty of what I get to do is that it’s about empowering people to trust their own instincts. Sure, I can give you a laundry list of tips, but at the end of the day, it’s your journey. I’m just the guy with a laptop, rooting you on from my couch while periodically Googling if my plants are dying.
5. Myth: My job is all glitz and glamour. Reality: Hello, Google Docs and existential dread.
Ah, the assumption that writing has to be glamorous because, you know, “Brooklyn writer vibes.” Look, sometimes I’ll pretend to be artsy and write at a coffee shop, but I’m more likely hunched over my dining table at weird hours, wondering if my neighbors hate the sound of my keyboard.
And sure, you might think a writer’s job seems glamorous when an article takes off or a piece gets shared widely. But few people see the backend: the pitches that got rejected, the ideas that bombed in the group chat, or the 17 rounds of editing that turned “kind of okay” into “actually pretty good.”
“Oh, and does that mean you’ll write a novel someday?” people ask me constantly. To which I say: I can barely commit to what I’m eating for dinner tonight. Let’s take it one article at a time, okay?
Final Takeaway: It’s messy, it’s real, and that’s why I love it.
Despite how misunderstood this job—and frankly, relationships themselves—can be, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Writing about love, dating, and everything in between isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about exploring the questions. It’s about finding humor in the chaos, learning to own your story, and sharing it in a way that resonates with someone out there feeling just as confused, hopeful, or heartbroken as you.
So, the next time you read an article on relationships, remember: behind every word is a writer who’s just as flawed and figuring it out as you are—and certain that it’s one of the most human, worthwhile things to write about.
