January 27, 2021

An LA Decade

Ten years ago today, I fled a snowstorm in New York City and landed in sunny, warm Burbank—where I immediately stripped off my winter boots and headed to Target to buy a bikini. 

I had no idea what the next few weeks would hold—much less the next 10 years. 
But I can say now that I never expected some things to be the way they are today. 

Sure, I'm in the same Art Deco apartment building in Beverly Hills. They'll have to kick me out to get me to leave. 

But given how many dates and romantic encounters I had immediately upon my arrival to LA, I never would've thought that I'd still be single. 

Or that I'd be more single now than I've ever been before. 

Guess I can't blame that one on living in NYC anymore. 

My platonic social circle is entirely different, too. A guy I met early on (and, later, hooked up with) told me that the people I thought were my friends in the first three years of living here would be long gone by 10 years in. 

I couldn't imagine him being right—but those friendships I had in my tight little community have pretty much entirely faded away in the last four years or so. 

And I haven't seen that guy in a few years, either. 

Fortunately, I've got better, closer friends now—ones I can really rely on. 

I'm on my fourth car lease—and now I think I've finally found a car I might want to keep. Maybe because it's the only one I haven't managed to destroy. 

But otherwise, things are pretty stable. 

I'm approaching my fifth anniversary with my kittyboy. We get to know each other more every day. He still makes me laugh daily. 

I've already surpassed my fifth anniversary at work. I still think it's funny that the only way I could find a steady job in LA was with a company based in Baltimore. 

The longest I've ever spent at one company was 6 years and 4 months. I'm hoping to beat that record with my current dayjob. They, too, will have to kick me out to get me to leave. 

Unless I find something else really good. But it's got to be absolutely outstanding

I can't even imagine what that would be. 

I still haven't written a book. But I haven't discounted the possibility yet. It feels like I'm getting closer to it—maybe because I've written several books' worth of content between this blog and my "SoCal Wanderer" column for KCET

I still have no clue what the next 10 years will hold. 

People ask if I'm in LA to stay, and I just shrug. I'm not looking to leave right now. But I remember how quickly things turned around in NYC—when I was happy as a clam in 2007 and ready to run screaming in 2009. 

Before I moved to LA, I was really focused on trying to figure out where I was supposed to be. Or where I should be. 

Now that I'm here—and have been here for a decade—I'm certain that NYC is no longer the place for me.

Is there someplace else? Maybe. Sure. 

But I don't feel terribly compelled to go looking for it. 

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