Julianne Potter.

She taught me how to be clever before I knew how to be honest.

Julianne Potter wasn’t just the cool girl — she was the smart girl, the stylish girl, the complicated girl who made you believe you could be all of it and still be wanted. She was a strategist in sunglasses. A tornado in a trench coat. A woman who could quote Camus and carry beers. She kept up with the boys without becoming one — and never once apologized for her intensity.

I didn’t just watch her. I absorbed her.

Her timing, her confidence, her messy bravado.

I learned how to be one of the guys without losing my own rhythm.

I learned how to keep ten thoughts in the air and still look composed.

I learned how to turn emotional complexity into charisma.

Julianne wasn’t sweet. She was sharp.

She didn’t stay quiet — she stayed in the room.

She wasn’t perfect — but she was present, even in her flaws.

She showed me that you can fumble and still be magnetic.

That you can long for love and still be dignified.

That you can care loudly and still wear it well.

She loved with her whole body, even when it didn’t go her way.

She showed up for the heartbreak and stayed until the credits rolled.

And when the moment passed her by, she didn’t disappear

She stood at the edge of it and smiled, still her full self.

Julianne taught me not just how to feel — but how to stay standing while feeling.

She made me brave enough to admit that I want to be chosen

But not at the cost of shrinking.

So I thank her.

Not because she got the guy.

But because she gave me the blueprint for being bold, brilliant, complicated, and unapologetically alive.

She showed me the moves.

And now?

I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.