I had my first break up in a long time. It was the classic "it's not you, it's me." I just said goodbye to my trusty beach apartment and to a community I'd happily called home for 3 years. My place was like a steady boyfriend. We had grown out of the honeymoon phase long ago. It had been years since I walked into the front door and felt giddy that this place was actually mine. It had slowly but surely become a part of who I am. I knew all of the quirks. Which electrical outlets controlled which lights. Which marks on the walls had been strategically covered up with art and design. I knew that the oven knobs were misleading gauges of temperatures in the stove. It was a place of memories. Of dramatic kitchen failures. Of spilled wine and vomit. Where seductive dresses of dates past hung in the closet. A place that knew my tears and my joy. It saw friendships bloom and relationships fail. But it was mine. My little space in the city of LA.
At some point in the course of our courtship, I started to get that uncomfortable tick in my brain that whispered it was time to go. My apartment and I were on an unending spin cycle. Churning along with no conclusion.
Financially, there is never a rational reason to move. Moving is a sinking hole of credit card receipts and pieces of furniture that you will never use again. I knew this. But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't meant to be sleeping in that bedroom anymore. Like my boyfriend in college, we had grown apart. It was time to part ways.
I went through the exhilaratingly miserable process of searching for a new place. The process is tough, mainly because you instantly compare everything to what you already have. I suppose this is what makes dating tough. There is no objectivity - only comparison. Sizing up value and fit. There were a few times I got to the point where I thought I'd give up on the whole venture and live in my current apartment forever. My landlord hadn't raised rent in years and I had amazing neighbors. Part of me wanted the search to fail. I wanted to put up with the old beau even if he was holding me back.
And then on an uncommonly rainy Sunday I found a match. It takes about .5 seconds to realize when you've found the right place. Something inside you knows that it feels like home. I imagine/hope this is what it's like when you meet a person who is supposed to have a significant impact on your life. You don't need hours of careful study, you just know. You know you will love and care for your new place. You know there will be highs and lows. But you take the risk, the giant leap and sign. Signing on the promise of a better tomorrow and saying goodbye to today.