The best dating advice I can give is... are you going in it for

In the words of Kendra Wilkinson, we find a truth that pierces through the haze of modern confusion: “The best dating advice I can give is... are you going in it for marriage, or are you going in it for just a date? You've got to be open about it right away, because the other person could be in it for marriage, but you're not.” Though spoken with simplicity, this counsel holds the weight of timeless wisdom. It speaks to the ancient law of clarity, the sacred alignment between intent and action — a law that governs not only love but all human endeavor. For as the elders once said, "He who walks two paths at once will never arrive at either."

From the beginning of civilization, the wise have taught that confusion of purpose leads to suffering. Whether in love, in war, or in faith, the one who hides their true aim sows discord not only in others, but in their own heart. Wilkinson’s words are not those of naiveté, but of discernment. She sees that in the realm of love, honesty is the foundation of harmony. When two souls meet, each carries an unspoken map of hope — but if those maps lead to different destinations, their journey together is doomed to wander. Thus, she warns: declare your purpose early, for truth spoken in the beginning saves sorrow in the end.

In the old world, this wisdom was known by many names. The Stoics called it euthymia — the state of calm certainty that comes from knowing one’s direction. The Greeks believed that love guided by intention could grow into virtue, while love pursued blindly would collapse under its own passion. So too did the philosopher Aristotle teach that friendship and affection must rest on mutual understanding — that if one seeks pleasure while the other seeks permanence, both shall be wounded by disappointment. Wilkinson’s voice, echoing through the centuries, reminds us of this same truth: that clarity is the highest kindness one can offer in matters of the heart.

Consider the story of Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, and Julius Caesar, the ruler of Rome. Their union was born not of confusion, but of clarity. Each knew the other’s intent — Caesar sought political alliance and passion; Cleopatra sought survival for her throne and people. They entered their bond with open eyes, and thus, though their story was tragic, it was not hollow. Their love served its purpose because it was understood from the beginning. In contrast, how many modern hearts falter because their intentions are veiled, because they speak of affection but mean escape, or speak of forever while holding doubt?

Wilkinson’s wisdom reveals not cynicism, but courage. To ask yourself what you seek — to name it aloud — is an act of self-respect. To tell another your truth, even at the risk of loss, is an act of respect toward them. For love built on pretense is like a house upon sand: it dazzles for a moment but falls at the first wind. Yet love built on honesty, even if brief, carries dignity. The ancients would have called this honorable love, love that is conscious, deliberate, and without deceit.

The heart of her message is simple yet profound: intention is destiny. Whether you seek a fleeting spark or a lifelong flame, declare it. When two souls meet in truth, they move in harmony, even if their paths later part. But when one conceals and the other reveals, their song becomes dissonance. Thus, let every beginning be marked by openness, for clarity is the guardian of peace. As Wilkinson says, “be open about it right away” — not only to others, but to yourself.

And so, the teaching is this: before you step into the circle of love, know thy purpose. Do not stumble into affection as though blindfolded, nor play with hearts as though they were stones to be skipped across water. Speak your truth early, and listen for the truth in others. If you seek joy, say so; if you seek eternity, say that too. The ancients believed that the gods favored the honest of heart — those whose words and deeds were one. Be among them. For in love, as in life, transparency is strength, and truth — even when it costs you something — is the highest form of love you can give.