Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

The myth of different and jumping off cliffs

I want to move back to the east coast.  I have in fact said this so many times that it’s become a pattern – 2 or 3 times a year I want to move back home, sometimes I start the process, sometimes I don’t, sometimes I simply can’t (like when I get 3 job offers in San Francisco and can’t get an interview on the east coast). My friends are so used to the drill by now they answer the phone with “hi honey, you don’t want to move.”

I think it’s come to a point where I want to do it so I can stop talking about it.  I want to make a god damn decision and be done and I know that as long as I’m in the Bay Area I will be perpetually making this decision.

The thing is, I love California…we’ve had our ups and downs, we had the euphoric months when I first moved when the city took me in and showered me with tanktop weather in January.  When everyone was Super Nice(!) in a way that balances the absurd flakiness of this place and disguises the fact that it’s hard to form deep bonds.  We had our down times too, when I was in grad school and broke in a city that sometimes pushes NYC out of its highest cost of living position, when I couldn’t figure out how to actually make plans when the entire city is “playing it by ear” and because of that couldn’t find social connections that worked.  We had our near breakups when I planned to leave, when I started seeing other cities on the side, when I all but ran away with Boston until San Francisco told me I hadn’t given it a fair chance and I agreed.

We recommitted, the Bay Area and I.  We planted roots and nourished them into taking hold. I accepted that I’m just not meant to be with Boston, I’m always a Californian on the east coast.  I try to compost things, and I talk about the weather as thought it were a special event.  I “play things by ear,” carry around too much technology, and search far and wide for craft cocktails.  And I know this about myself, I have no desire to change this, or to give up my January tanktops.  So why am I still cheating on San Francisco with the east?

I used to think that things will be different if I moved back east – social interactions would be different, more nerdy, more planned, better suited to me.  My deep friendships would be close at hand, I’d be near my family. Maybe I’d get to start fresh, start the house I’ve always wanted. The thing is, all of that is true, and it isn’t.  I guess the cornerstone of this is a myth: the house I’ve always wanted is a myth because dreams are built to change or they are prisons.  So that’s cool, the house I’ve always wanted is the house I live in now (hey, I’ve got a hot tub and floor to ceiling windows, I could do worse).  The rest of it, yes, I’d be closer to family but our relationship pattern is set already, yes my deep friendships are there, but I don’t think a week goes by without connecting to those people.

Maybe that’s why I want to move now of all times, I don’t have a reason to move, I’m not hitching myself to something that may or may not go well, I’m not having a hiccup with California.  I’m madly in love with crisp blue skies and the wild wild west, and I’m also ready to make a decision that’s not based on the myth of how everything will change.

Written by kinkinexile

July 28, 2013 at 3:06 pm

Posted in headspace, personal

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