Living in Los Angeles means I have a lot of friends in LA who are looking to move back to New York. In New York, right now, I am SURE there are hundreds of creative types after having their asses felt up on the F train and then being yelled at by the cashier at Duane Reade, who are thinking, “Get me the feck to California.”
It ain’t the location. Nope. It ain’t the location.
‘Cause the location ain’t never paradise. I asked my Wifesy once, “Where would you like to live the most in the world?”
Her answer was something like, “In a beach house in a city with a backdoor that leads to the country, over a theater where there is culture, but in an area that’s not too noisy, yet teeming with life, where you can ride your bike and take mass transit, but where things aren’t too close together.”
What in the feck.
That place doesn’t exist.
I filled out a dating profile for a friend of mine. We wrote it funny, I knew it was going to get lots of views. But, then I let my friend fill out the drop down menu boxes. She immediately checked: “Must make over $150,000.”
I said, “Really, he must make over 150k? I mean, you make a decent living…”
And she was like, “Yes. He must make over 150k. That’s what I want. That’s what he should make.” She was downright adamant. She also checked, “Must be over 6’2”.
Now, it’s not that this guy doesn’t exist. It’s more that this guy is dating Gisele Bundchen.
You might be thinking, “What in the feck, SM, don’t you believe in standards?”
I so believe in standards – for yourself. I believe when you put them on the world, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. Let’s take the “perfect place” again. When Wifesy and I were looking for an apartment, we had trouble in the beginning because we wanted too many things. We wanted a part of Los Angeles that we could walk around in, but we also wanted a pool. We wanted it to look great, but we didn’t want to spend a lot of money. See, this place doesn’t exist. We were asking for the cheap, luxury place, with a big pool, and space, in a trendy and walkable neighborhood.
So, I got more specific. I said, “Wifesy, what MUST you have. What do you want in an apartment above all things?” And Wifesy said, “a pool.” I thought really long and hard about what one thing I wanted and it was for the place to be, “a good looking bargain.”
We got most of what we wanted because we whittled it down to what was most important.
I think about my friends who live here, but want to be somewhere else and it saddens me. Last night Wifesy and I – accidentally – hung out with a fairly well known transsexual. She relayed her fascinating story. Wifesy said it made her sad. Not because transsexuals are sad, in fact, this particular woman was rather joyful. It was a sadness about the disconnect. Wifesy later said to me, “I’m so glad I’m in the right body for my brain.” And I understood, exactly, what she meant.
You have to figure out a way to make things flow in your life. The brain should match the body, the location should match the heart, and the lover should match your “most importants” and not a checklist that would make Mr. Perfect cringe.
Sometimes it’s a move, for sure. Sometimes you just have to get the hell out of dodge. But, a lot of times that new location will have problems too or it will not be how you remember it. Nothing is perfect, but I think you can feel perfect in a moment. You can feel like everything is just right within a space in time. If it doesn’t feel that way, usually, I think you have to go inside. That’s where the potential for perfection is. It’s located somewhere between your gut, your heart, and your head.
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