I don't have dating tips.

“I don’t have dating tips.” Thus spoke Bill Keller, with words that at first seem plain, almost humble—yet beneath their simplicity lies a wisdom that hums like a quiet bell through the corridors of time. For in an age where the world clamors for formulas, where love itself is dissected and packaged into lists and lessons, Keller’s confession stands as a rebellion. It is a reminder that not all of life’s most sacred experiences can be taught, measured, or mastered. Love, he implies, is not an art of strategy, but an unfolding mystery—an ocean that no compass can fully map.

To say “I don’t have dating tips” is to speak from a place of reverence. It is to admit that the human heart cannot be reduced to instruction. For the ancients understood that matters of the heart belonged not to logic, but to the realm of fate and spirit. The Greeks spoke of Eros, the god of love, whose arrows struck without warning and whose power no mortal could resist. Even the wise philosopher Socrates, when questioned about love, confessed that it was a divine madness—an experience that teaches not through instruction, but through surrender. So when Keller refuses to offer guidance, he is not withholding wisdom; he is honoring the truth that love cannot be learned by rule, only lived through courage.

Consider the tale of Petrarch, the poet who loved Laura from afar. He wrote sonnets filled with devotion, longing, and despair—yet he never claimed to understand love, only to feel it more deeply with each passing year. No “tip” could have brought him closer to her heart, nor could any counsel have spared him the ache of desire. His writings endure not as manuals, but as testaments to the unpredictable, transformative nature of the heart. Like Petrarch, Keller reminds us that love is not conquered by advice—it conquers us. It molds us through failure, humbles us through yearning, and redeems us through compassion.

In truth, those who seek tips often seek control. They wish to tame the wildness of affection, to avoid pain, to guarantee success. But love is not a field for the cautious. It is the realm of the brave, the uncertain, the sincere. There are no tricks that can summon it, no guarantees that can hold it. The ancient lovers knew this, as did the mystics and poets who followed: love is the great teacher that defies teaching. To fall into it is to step beyond reason, to risk both heartbreak and awakening. The one who demands certainty in love asks for a river that will never move.

When Keller says, “I don’t have dating tips,” he is not ignorant—he is free. He does not pretend to hold mastery over the mysteries of affection. In this humility lies his wisdom. For only the foolish claim authority over love, while the wise know it to be greater than themselves. The same humility guided saints and scholars alike: Rumi, who said that love’s path “has no map,” and Shakespeare, who wrote that love “is an ever-fixed mark” though it is tested by storms. Their words, like Keller’s, remind us that the heart is not a problem to solve but a truth to live.

From this teaching, let us draw a lesson for our own time. Do not seek formulas for love, but understanding of yourself. Do not ask, “How can I make another love me?” but, “How can I love more honestly, more deeply, more freely?” The greatest wisdom in relationships is not found in strategies, but in sincerity. Listen more. Fear less. Be kind, even when you are uncertain. Let go of control, for love grows not in the soil of perfection, but in the wild earth of authenticity.

So, my child of tomorrow, remember the quiet power of Bill Keller’s words. Do not look for dating tips—seek instead the courage to be real. For love is not a puzzle that the clever solve, but a fire that the open-hearted tend. You will make mistakes. You will be misunderstood. You will hurt, and you will heal. Yet through it all, you will come to know the beauty of a life lived with feeling, not formula. And in that sacred knowing, you will discover that the absence of “tips” is not a lack of guidance—it is the invitation to live love as it was always meant to be: unpredictable, wondrous, and utterly human.