I don’t have many illusions about my upcoming move. The city I am returning to is a lot smaller and will likely have less in the way of job opportunities, and the available jobs will pay less. Although it’s a hip place with plenty to do, it doesn’t offer the sheer variety of restaurants and activities that this giant metropolis does.
That said, most people I’ve told that I’m leaving have said, “I wish I could too.” Like me, they are stressed out at work, overwhelmed by the cost of living, and feeling socially adrift. I know a few people who love it here, and there are certainly things to love, but far more people seem to feel that they are stretching themselves to the breaking point with little to show for it.
Of course, as soon as I made my decision and set some things in irreversible motion, a potential set-up from long ago finally appeared and asked me out. I figured there was no harm in going on the date, so we met up; I decided I would bring up my plans only in the case of subsequent dates. He is certainly a “catch,” quite successful and well-educated and attractive, and I can imagine he would absolutely clean up on a dating site. Everything tells me that he must have a world of options, but we had a lot of fun, he seems quite sweet, and he kissed me at the end. This being L.A., however, I may well never hear from him again.
If I don’t, it just gives me further confirmation that I’m doing the right thing by getting out.