makin’ moves

I feel like it’s a common sentiment that a woman shouldn’t ever move for a guy. I don’t know where I picked up that impression but in different circles over the years it seems to be shared advice.

Twice in my life I have moved “for a guy”. The first time was in 2002, the second in 2011. Neither of these guys, for different reasons, are part of my daily life now, but I have no regrets.

In 2002, my father was transitioning to a new position that would be relocating him (+ mom & 2 brothers) almost a thousand miles away. I was old enough to not live with them never mind need to move with them. I considered that I wouldn’t. I’d get an apartment with a friend or two, keep waitressing, keep dating my boyfriend and just figure it all out. That narrative changed one morning as my father drove me to pick up my car. I can still picture us driving down route 1, near the Mexican restaurant where I worked, to the car dealership where the repairs were being done. He never said “you should …” rather, he told me all the things that I could be or do in a new place, without putting down what I wasn’t doing or being in that one. I remember when I got out of the car he told me to “just think about it” and in true me fashion, that’s all I did. Think it over, think it under, think it sideways, think it inside out. Every green light where a driver hesitated too long, I thought about Wisconsin. Every customer who answered my “Hi how are you guys?” With “diet coke” or “don’t we get chips and salsa?” I thought about packing my car full of the things I needed and following my family west-ish. Every time my then boyfriend didn’t call when he said he would “I could be doing this same shit in Wisconsin” – so I did.

I spent almost ten years living in Americas Dairyland. I met a lot of great people, finished my bachelors degree, got my first masters degree, dated and broke up a few times with a handful of guys, and eventually rekindled an old connection that turned romantic and had me back at my waitressing job thinking “I could be doing this same shit in Massachusetts” – so I did.

In 2011, I moved myself from Wisconsin to Massachusetts to share my long distance boyfriends apartment with him. We talked about it as a trial of sorts (even though we already trialed the summer before!) and gave each other permission to call it quits. We didn’t. I met a lot of great people, waitressed a bit, worked as a nanny, had weight loss surgery, some cosmetic procedures, learned how to manage my money better, got another masters degree, went on many outdoor adventures, learned about myself, started a career and learned, both unfortunately and fortunately, how to live alone.

Both of these men, and the overall experiences raised me; helped me get to the next trajectory for my life and I wouldn’t change a single thing about those moves.

If anyone ever tells you not to do something, consider the benefit of it to you in the long run and recognize that the persons reservations are likely about them, not you. Hell, I’m hoping to meet another guy to move for and find my next home soon! (kidding!)

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