Privilege Of Being Present

There's an undeniable thrill to being escorted into one of those restaurants where even the water has a backstory and the ceiling appears to have been designed specifically for Instagram's golden hour. The kind of place where the maître d' pronounces your name like it's a rare French poem.

I've done the dance of luxury dating—sailed through those evenings where someone's clearly consulted a team of experts to orchestrate the perfect night. Private chef's tables where each micro-green has been placed with tweezers, sunset yacht cruises that make the city skyline look like it's showing off just for us, gallery openings where the champagne flows as freely as the pretentious art criticism.

But here's what they don't tell you in the handbook of high-end romance: sometimes the most electric connections happen when you're both hiding from unexpected rain under a shop awning, sharing the world's most mediocre coffee and discovering you both have the same obscure fear of the sound that balloon animals make when you twist them.

I appreciate the grand gestures—it speaks to effort, to intention, to someone's desire to create something memorable. But I'm equally charmed by the person who can turn an impromptu detour into an adventure, who sees the humor in a spectacularly failed omelet, who makes waiting for our delayed flight feel like we're co-starring in our own indie film.

The truth about connection isn't written in reservation books or scored by violin quartets. It lives in those unscripted moments when you both quote the same obscure movie line simultaneously, or when you discover you share the same weird habit of dancing a little when the food is fire. It's finding someone who gets why you find mycology so damn interesting or understands your passionate defense of Oxford commas.

Don't mistake this for settling—I'm not suggesting we should aim lower. I'm saying aim.. truer. Because while I can appreciate the ballet of a perfectly executed tasting menu, I'm just as impressed by someone who can turn grocery shopping into an odyssey of discovery or make a Tuesday evening feel like New Year's Eve just by being entirely, authentically present.

So yes, dazzle me with your carefully curated evening if you like. I'll appreciate the choreography, admire the production values, savor every perfectly timed moment. But know that what really captivates me isn't the price tag on the experience—it's the wealth of genuine connection, the luxury of being truly seen, the rare currency of moments that can't be planned or purchased.

After all, in the complex algebra of attraction, authenticity is the variable that changes everything. But also.. so is.. your mom. :)