the anomaly

by rantywoman

My new place of residence is quite pleasant. It feels like a friendly small town. People are easygoing and welcoming. There are lots of nice restaurants and shops and farmers’ markets and plenty of opportunities for yoga and dance and tennis. And, of course, there’s the beach. I meet a lot of straight men, though most are married or divorced.

It is a different lifestyle from the anonymous, urban, and gay-friendly one I’ve been living for the past two decades, both in the center of L.A. and in the hip city I just moved away from. If I want to go to an art gallery, jazz bar, alt-comedy show, art film, or museum, I am, for the most part, looking at driving an hour into the city.

Although in the last few years I was only taking advantage of those things about once a week, it is true that “you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.” I had stopped going out almost entirely as my job search dragged on this past fall, so I am somewhat used to spending my time cooking and studying instead, but this will still be a bit of an adjustment.

I do feel like a bit of an anomaly here as I find my way.