Like I said earlier, there’s more that goes into my decision to move to Las Vegas. The moving part was pretty much inevitable, but why Las Vegas? I don’t gamble, I don’t drink too much (a beer here and there is about it), I don’t go clubbing, and I really don’t care for pretending to be all that, like so many visitors and people moving here do. I do like having something to do past 6pm, but honestly, a few choice places to eat will suffice.

So back to the more part. That all started a little over a year before I made the move, when a man with piercing blue eyes moved in across the hall from me. I remember the day he moved in – I was on the phone with my mom, peering out the window at what was going on in the parking lot. “Hey mom, just peeking outside, new neighbor is moving in. Looks like a single dad, he’s got a couple of kids helping him. Ooh, he’s cute.”

Well you can guess what happened. We got involved. It didn’t take long; I found out later that he would peer out his window at me from pretty much the minute he moved in. He was everything I said I didn’t want. He was shorter than me – only by an inch, but still – and of course the single dad thing. I never ever wanted to date anyone with kids. But I fell for him. Did I ever fall for him. I don’t need to go into the gory details of our relationship, but it ended pretty much just as quickly as it began, and I was devastated. It should have been easy to pick myself up and get on with things, but he lived across the hall from me and still saw him on a daily basis. Here’s a tip: never get involved with someone you live so close to. After months of agony for me, we finally got to a point where we could be friends again. It was still really hard for me, since I still wanted to be with him. I thought he was The One. But I sucked it up and let the friendship take its course.

So what does Mr. Piercing Blue Eyes have to do with my move to Las Vegas? Simple. He has family here, and during our discussions about my decision to move, it didn’t take much for him to persuade me to pick Vegas, since I had already decided on the Southwest. The fact that his mom had a room for rent made it easier – then I wouldn’t be all alone in this big bad city. Plus I figured it would be the best way for us to stay close, since the way he worded things, us not being together was only “for now.”

Flash forward to today: I no longer live with his family. That only lasted a year. And I’m no longer friends with him. That I think I knew had to end long before it actually did. It was my decision, I don’t think he was happy with it, but he had a choice. He chose to accept my decision instead of fighting for me. I realize now that he was holding me back from, oh, I don’t know exaclty, but he was a roadblock. Or rather, a scenic detour that led to a dead end. Time to turn around and pick another road.

First of all, you’re probably wondering why the heck I moved here in the first place. Well, if you’ve ever been to Vegas, the thought of moving here has probably crossed your mind. Either that or you know someone who’s moved here and loves it. There are over 5000 people per month who move here. Not everyone stays, but still, the growth here is unbelievable.

As for me moving, you could say it was my life’s dream to move far away. When I was in elementary school in my not-so-small town, occasionally we’d get a new student – someone who moved there from far away. And once in awhile one of my classmates would move away. I always wanted to be that person, if for no other reason than the anonymity. Remember what I said about everyone knowing my name? Well, here’s part of why my family is so well known in town: my dear grandmother worked for the school system, and was the secretary of my elementary school. Oh yeah. I could NOT get away from it.

Now don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I have some deep dark secrets that my family can’t know about. I’m not a troublemaker for whom the family name keeps getting in the way (that would be my sister). I’m a pleaser, teacher’s pet, whatever you want to call it. Basically, I was a good kid, always trying to make all the adults around me proud. But I wanted to know what it’s like to live somewhere else. Not just to live somewhere else, but to move, to go through that process, to be the new kid in school. Kind of a weird life’s dream, eh?

In high school, I got a bit of a chance. My parents are divorced, and my mom lived about 20 minutes away. Halfway through high school, I went to live with my mom, so I had to change schools. That satisfied the itch for awhile, but get this – 3 other people in my graduating class were from my hometown. I wasn’t a complete unknown. Oh well.

Now on to college. I was aiming for a particular school over 1000 miles away, mainly because it had a campus in the UK and the study abroad was an option, and I really wanted to go. But of course my dad, who was paying for school (and btw, never really taught me to work hard and make and save my own money), was not keen on the idea of me going far away to school. So I ended up going to school in the next town. It was ok, but I still would have preferred to go away to school.

After college, with my associate degree in liberal arts in hand, I was well prepared for a career in – um, what? No clue. So life became a series of retail jobs until I couldn’t take it anymore. I signed up with a temp agency and got into administrative work. I don’t care for that either, but the hours are so much better and if you find a good place to work, like I have, then the job can actually be fun.

I also spent a lot of time not doing much else – I’d take drives to listen to music and clear my head, and I watch movies and TV a lot. I found a movie at the video store that really brought back my feelings of wanting to move. It’s an independent flick called Ruby in Paradise. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. I rented it so many times that I realized it would be less expensive to buy it, so I did. I still have that video, but I must burn it to DVD. It’s not out on DVD, and I really wish it would be. Anyway, it’s about a young woman striking out on her own. No real climax to it – it moves kinda slow as independent moves are known to do. But it struck a really deep chord with me.

I started fantasizing about moving away. I made plans, what to bring with me, how to pack, etc. I had this romantic idea about bringing only what I could fit in my car, which at the time was a 1988 Toyota Celica. Quite tiny, so my options were limited. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was where to go. I had a few ideas in mind, but none seemed practical. I also had too many ideas floating in my mind to be able to pick one. Also, this is before the internet was widely in use so being able to research any of the potential destinations was not easy. In the end, I decided to wait until I could figure out where to go, and also to figure out exactly why I was going. I felt too much like I was running away, and I didn’t want to get into a pattern of always moving away somewhere.

So over the years I worked the above mentioned retail and office jobs. Then something happened which meant I had to get out of my parent’s house (I had spent my adult life living with either my mother or my father, depending on which suited me). Now I was scared poopless because I had never lived on my own before, and I didn’t think I could afford to do it. An apartment was out of the questions, there was no way I could pay over $800/mo for rent, which was the going rate at the time. Also out of the question was a roommate. At 25, I really really really wanted to live by myself and have complete control over my domain. So after a bit of searching and some pep talks from those close to me, I found what would be my home for the next 3 1/2 years. It wasn’t much, it was a cheap condo that wasn’t in the best kept complex, but I could afford it all by myself. I liked my little home, but after a few years I started getting that feeling again.

After a few incidents at work that ended up getting me recommended to the Employee Assistance Program (as in, see a counselor please, you have issues), I did just that – went to a counselor. After I gave him a quick rundown of my life, he said that he saw a strong theme of me feeling trapped. Well that really got the wheels spinning.

Here’s what I was looking for: Definitely no family nearby, needed my own turf. Lower cost of living, more job opportunities. A city or metropolitan area with lots of options. And after the especially harsh winter we had, I couldn’t get the temp INSIDE over 60F. So I stopped looking at Milwaukee (my first choice) and looked south. Southeast, sure it’s cheap but it’s also humid and with lots of humidity comes much larger bugs. No thanks. How about the Southwest? Phoenix, Tucson, Las Vegas. Did some research and settled on Vegas, the world’s largest shrine to vices and tackiness. So here I am.

There’s a lot more that goes into these decisions, as anyone who’s planned a move like this will know. But that’s the basics of it. Later I’ll tell you why this place isn’t right for me.