I say that I lived in NYC for 14 years—but in reality, it was actually 13 years and 8 months.
I left New York to move to LA at the end of January 2011, which means I've lived here for 13 years and 11+ months.
I already surpassed my time in NYC without really noticing it. And now I'm about to celebrate my 14th anniversary in Los Angeles—a real 14 years.
It's all been in the same apartment, which is the longest I've lived anywhere in my adult life. I had three different apartments of my own in NYC, with an additional spare room serving as my temporary housing until I could move to LA.
I wasn't happy in any of them. Now I can't imagine ever leaving my apartment.
When I'd lived this long in NYC, I was dying to leave. I was ready to run away from the city like my hair was on fire. I'd had 10 good years (or what seemed like good years); then everything started to fall apart in 2008. I'd never considered leaving before then.
I had the opposite experience in LA: The beginning was incredibly hard and lonely, but it's gotten easier as time has gone on.
I don't ever seriously think about moving away—at least, not the way I was desperate to escape New York at one point. Maybe that's because if I couldn't make it there, I've got no confidence that I could make it anywhere else.
Living in Los Angeles is much easier than living in New York, but it's still not easy. It can be incredibly lonely. It love-bombs you and then ghosts you.
At least New York is standoffish to begin with. You've got no doubts as to where you stand.
Of course, the New York I left back in 2011 might not be the same New York that's there now. Not emotionally, or philosophically.
I feel like the physical landscape—specifically, the streetscape—of LA has changed quite a bit since I got here. I struggle to remember what the Sunset Strip used to look like, before all the high-rises rose up, when Scandia and the Tiffany Theater and the House of Blues still stood. I was still trying to learn Los Angeles back then, as it was changing so much. So, I don't think there's ever been a version of Los Angeles that I've ever known well.
And for as many photos as I've taken over the last 14-or-so years, it still doesn't feel like enough. There's too much that's gone that I can no longer recall.
I regret not taking more photos. I regret not posting more photos I took. I regret losing photos I didn't manage to offload from old cell phones before they died.
I struggle to accept that there's nothing I can do about that now.
I've spent more "big nights in" while living in LA than I have since I lived with my parents and was forced to stay home all the time.
And for as much as I do during the day out here, for as much as I manage to accomplish, I still constantly feel like I'm missing out.
I've had more dates here than I ever did in New York City, yet more heartbreak that's been so far worse, it might've left me permanently broken.
The good news is, my wallet hasn't gotten stolen once in LA (knock on leather). I haven't gotten punched or groped on the subway, not even one time.
My car did get broken into once. And it got hit twice while parked outside my building.
I guess that just comes with the territory.
Of course, it's not a competition. I'm not going to say whether New York or Los Angeles is a better city.
But LA is better for me, for me now, where I am in my life at this point.
And that may change.
But that's OK.
How long will I stay here? I have no idea. I've never been able to anticipate what Los Angeles has had in store for me over the last 14 years. My life now isn't what I thought it would be when I first moved here.
I guess we'll just wait and see.
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