It is the fate of any long distance relationship, that someone will have to move. There's really no other way around it. If things become for serious, one party has to pack up their gear and make the leap across area codes. In our case, it is me that will be doing the moving.
Since the manfriend doesn't speak French, has a pretty good job with many, many weeks of vacation, and I have a fairly movable career, it was the best option for the relationship.
Also, that's how you talk when you're in a serious relationship. Everything is "for the relationship." Because serious relationship people like to sound like they know everything about serious relationships.
And I'm excited about it. I'll be a 10 minute drive from my oldest sister and my nieces, and a 45 minute drive from my other sister. His place is way bigger than mine, so we won't be all up in each other's business all the time. Unless we want to be all up in each other's business, of course. And there are a lot of really good agencies where I can find work. Plus, he always brings me water from all the way downstairs when I'm thirsty. Oh, and we get to see each other every day which I'm pretty thrilled about.
However, I will be living in the suburbs.
Cue dramatic music.
There is a mantra I have lived by. And it went something like this: I will never, ever live in the suburbs.
I grew up in the woods and now I live in the city. And I rather enjoy both those landscapes. In the former, you get trees and fresh air and wildlife and lots of property to provide for ample opportunities to step in dog poo. In the latter, you get proximity to work and great restaurants and weirdos as neighbours. I've lived in a lot of places/cities/countries in between, but for the purposes of this very scientific study, I'm only going to refer to the homes I spent the most time in.
It's the in between part I'm not so sure of. Strip malls, oversized grocery stores, parking lots and perms make me nervous. It just isn't the environment I imagined living in when I grew up. In other news, am I grown up?
And what is so wrong with that environment, anyway? Maybe it's because I like pretty things, and the view of the Wal-Mart parking lot from the manfriend's yard just isn't that pretty. Or maybe I'm scared of the hour-plus commute to work, even thought I think I've *finally* managed to convince the manfriend I need an iPad because of it. Or maybe I'm just a huge snob.
Either way, the manfriend and I are pretty solid and are ridiculously happy together. So, I know I'll be happy wherever we live (awwwwww). If you ask any of my friends, they'll tell you it's been a while since I've gushed on and on about a dude. I usually rant on and on about how dumb/rude/crybabyish they are. When we first started dating, I obsessed about his dislike of olives because I had to find *something* wrong with him.
You'll be happy to know, I'm completely over the olive thing.
Perhaps I will learn to love the Wal-Mart. I mean, you *can* save money and live better. And I've heard you don't even have to wear pants to shop there. Maybe I'll buy a pair of Uggs and shuffle (because everyone knows you have to drag your feet when you wear Uggs) over to Starbucks every Saturday before we go to Home Depot and buy rugs and towel racks. Or, even better, maybe I'll bring sexy back to the suburbs. I'll do all the permed ladies nails. And buy Costco sized bags of cotton balls. And be the bendiest girl at yoga. I'll be a city girl, who's really a country girl, in the suburbs.