Sorry about the weirdness yesterday with the password-protected post. I had written it, published it, decided it shouldn’t be public, but wanted one person to read it, and forgot about the whole “Mailchimp sends out whatever I publish” thing.
So here we are.
I alluded to personal changes in my follow-up email. I suppose now is as good a time as ever to let y’all know that I’m moving to San Francisco February 1. I am genuinely excited about the move, but my excitement is tempered by the fact that this move marks the end of my live-in partnership with my boyfriend here. It’s also tempered by the loss of the amazing community I’ve found in Washington, D.C. (and Arlington). I know you’ll still be my community, but I’m losing a lot by no longer being able call you up for beers after work or go see you speak at events. It seemed unlikely that D.C. would be my forever home, just because I’m youngish and there’s more to explore. But I know, beyond a doubt, that D.C. could be my forever home. It’s a beautiful, interesting, charming city full of my kind of people. If things don’t work out in SF I’m probably coming back here.
I’m hoping to work remotely for Capterra. That’s being negotiated now.
So, like, what’s in San Francisco? Well, I have my suspicions that tech and innovation are less depressing than politics. I suspect fewer people will care about my lack of advanced degrees, or where I went to school out there. I’m looking forward to the lack of winter.
But mostly, to be honest, there’s this guy. There are two guys, actually. But one of them got me to move out there to be with him.
When I was 15 I went on a few dates with a boy I met at a poetry open mic. He was smart and poised and had the most beautiful teeth and blue eyes. He intimidated me. He was way smarter than me, which at 15 I hadn’t realized was my floor for dating. He was well-read. And he clearly had his shit together.
At some point he stopped wanting to see me, which I attributed to not showering before the last of our dates. And just generally not being good enough for him. He was always, for me, the one that got away.
But we kept in touch a little here and there in college and beyond. He watched me get married and divorced and move to D.C. on Facebook. I watched him get engaged, and then unengaged.
And then, Christmas 2014. Ten years after high school. I’m in Alabama visiting my folks. He’s in town too, visiting his. He reaches out on Twitter about getting together.
Anyway, two years later I’m moving across the country to live with him and begin a life together. So fuck you, younger Cathy. I am good enough for good-teeth boy.
I swear I’ll stop talking about my personal upheavals and post links and commentary soon. This has just been on my mind a lot. I’ve spent the last three weeks trying to face everything that’s wrong with me that led to the dissolution of my relationship with my live-in partner because I don’t want to make the same mistakes again with this one.
I love you all. Thank you to everyone who checked in on me after yesterday’s cryptic technology fail. Thanks to everyone who reads me. I don’t take it for granted. Glad I’m taking you with me across the country.