Shortly after earning my Bachelor’s degree, I did what any confused 21-year-old would do: I moved to be with a partner.
The decision surprised a lot of people in my life. My dad raised his eyebrows at my choice to move for love and to make Texas my home.
After all, I’d always dreamed of moving to New York, where I’d launch my writing career.
However, moving to Texas seemed like a good option at the time. It’s where my long-distance partner was living and working, and I was fresh out of college and eager to leave my California hometown.
Looking back now, I was leaning on a romanticized version of what moving would mean — a fresh start and a deepening of our LDR — instead of thinking about what I really wanted.
Moving to Texas felt like an immediate reality check
I arrived in northern Texas during a mid-summer nightmare of humidity. I couldn’t walk outside without feeling like I’d just entered a sauna — a sharp contrast to California’s dry heat.
From the very beginning, I tried to find community and make living here work, convincing myself I’d adjust if I just put in enough effort.
But I had a tough time finding things to do in my new suburb. Quiet nights and weekends left me daydreaming about New York City and its seemingly endless array of activities and events even more.
Crucially, I also found it incredibly difficult to meet anyone who felt similar to me.
My Dallas suburb felt much more conservative than my California hometown, and a lot of the people in our neighborhood were avid churchgoers, whereas I’m not religious.
Around this time, too, I was coming to terms with the fact that I also liked women romantically. I struggled to find the kinds of queer spaces that seemed more plentiful in larger cities and bluer states.
As much as I tried to appreciate the mountainless views and endless selection of barbecue, I struggled to connect with my new town — and I couldn’t stop thinking about the life I wanted in New York.
After just 6 months, I knew I had to leave
Six months in, I took a quick trip back to California to visit my dad.
Taking some time away from Texas made me confront the truth: I couldn’t stay there anymore.
Throughout my entire time in the state, I’d been daydreaming about packing up my things and living in New York City. My partner, on the other hand, wanted life in the country, and we just ended up not being compatible.
The Lone Star State helped bring all of these realizations to light.
I knew that if I had chosen to stay, I’d continue to feel like a stranger in my own life. I realized that I’d rather take on the “sunk cost” of moving than stay in a place and relationship that didn’t suit me.
By the time I left the state, I only felt happiness. I was excited to return to California, where I stayed for a year before I finally made my move to the Big Apple.
I learned a lot about myself during this time — including the fact that, maybe unsurprisingly, a suburb in northern Texas was not a great long-term fit for me. The biggest lesson I learned, though, was never to give up my own hopes and dreams for the sake of a relationship.
Don’t get me wrong: Moving for a partner can work for some people, but at 21, I learned the importance of making life decisions with my own wants and needs in mind.
Now, almost a decade later, I’m writing this from my New York City apartment. I’m in a city where I’ve found my purpose, the love of my life, and most importantly, happiness.
Leaving Texas turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
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