I give dating advice on a regular basis. It's not that I'm any

In the modest confession of Ashley Tisdale—“I give dating advice on a regular basis. It’s not that I’m any expert, but it’s always nice to share that with your friends”—we hear an old custom dressed in new clothes. The ancients knew that wisdom often travels not by podium but by friendship, not by decree but by conversation at dusk. To share counsel is to say, “I will walk the road with you.” To disclaim being an expert is to keep the road honest. Here humility and companionship braid into guidance that warms more than it dazzles.

The heart of the saying is the sanctuary of friends. In every age, lovers have stumbled through the thicket of hope and fear and then returned to the circle to ask, “What do you see that I cannot?” To give dating advice is not to sit as a judge, but to serve as a lantern. The phrase regular basis matters; constancy is the soul of helpful counsel. A single, brilliant word may amuse; a steady presence reforms the season. And the claim “I am no expert” is not a disqualification—it is the doorway to trust. The best counsel is often given by those who know they, too, are learning.

The ancients called this philia, the durable love of comrades. Aristotle wrote that a true friend is “another self,” and as another self they help us measure our desires without scorn. In such company, dating advice is less a script than a mirror: we lend each other clarity, courage, and restraint. The one who shares a story of their own misstep becomes a priest of relief; the one who shares a simple boundary—“respect yourself; listen for kindness; beware haste”—becomes an architect of peace.

Consider a story from nearer time. Jane Austen, though no married matron, wrote letters of counsel to her nieces—gentle, wry, and protective—about suitors who spoke sweetly but scantily, estates that glittered but corroded, proposals that pressed too hard. She was no formal expert, yet her care helped her friends and kin navigate a market of hearts without surrendering their integrity. Or recall Rainer Maria Rilke, whose Letters to a Young Poet are not formulas but companionship: “Live the questions now.” So too with Tisdale’s confession: guidance as sharing, not as spectacle; as practice, not as pronouncement.

There is a reason such counsel must be shared. Love magnifies our blind spots. The infatuated eye edits, the wounded ear distorts; we need the calm witness of a friend to rethread reality. When we give dating advice in this spirit, we do not hand down commandments; we hold up values: honesty over charm, consistency over fireworks, reciprocity over performance. We remind each other that the first promise is to one’s own dignity and that the right person will rejoice, not resent, that promise.

From this, draw a clear teaching: let community be your compass, and let humility be your guide. Do not wait for an expert with a certification in the soul; gather your friends and make a council of care. Your stories, mistakes, and small victories are curriculum enough when offered with tenderness. And when you receive counsel, measure it not by cleverness but by the peace it breeds and the courage it awakens.

Practical actions follow. (1) Form a small, recurring table—monthly tea or walk—where dating advice is shared under a simple rule: speak truth, keep confidence, seek the other’s good. (2) Begin each counsel with questions, not verdicts: “How do you feel with them? Do your values grow or shrink in their presence?” (3) Keep a brief “boundary list”—sleep, sobriety, money, respect—and ask your friends to hold you to it. (4) When tempted to posture as an expert, tell a failure instead; credibility grows in honest ground. (5) Close each gathering with one concrete, compassionate step—an honest text sent, a date declined, an apology made—so advice becomes deed.

At last, remember the deeper music in Tisdale’s words: love is a communal art, and the studio is friendship. To give dating advice “on a regular basis” is to refuse to let those you cherish wander alone; to admit you are no expert is to keep the counsel human. Keep sharing, keep listening, keep choosing each other’s flourishing—and the roads you walk will grow straighter, the evenings kinder, and the lessons you pass down strong enough to outlast fashion.