About my reason for moving to San Francisco.
I was rummaging through some old photos and ran across the one above. And I realized my motivation for leaving Dallas and moving to San Francisco was a bit more complicated than I originally mentioned. The real reason was because of a guy who broke my heart. While living in Dallas I had dated a guy for several years. I was madly in love with him; the kind of love where you feel that you can’t breathe or get your breath. He was much older than me and more sophisticated and worldly. He was an architect and designer of commercial buildings in Dallas.
We were always breaking up and then we would get back together. But the final time we broke up I knew it was for good and I needed some sort of an escape.
I had a friend who knew someone who had a cottage on the island of Eleuthera in the Bahamas. And it was only a short hop, skip and a jump from Dallas to the Bahamas by airplane. So off I went for a week of total relation with nothing but pink houses, the turquoise ocean and friendly people.
The cottage was nothing fancy but it was located in a small cove with no other houses in sight. The island was so peaceful and the people seemed so happy. I spent the day swimming in the private cove and relaxing. In the evening I went to the local restaurants and enjoy a meal.
The natives were friendly and relaxed, and caught up in enjoying the island life. The colors of the ocean and the beach were really beautiful.
After a week on the island, I returned to Dallas.
But I could not stand to live in Dallas any more. There were buildings that he had designed and I would see them and a knife would stab me in the heart each time. After a few months of the morbid self pity, I had to do something. So I reached out to my friend Debbie and her husband who had just moved to San Francisco
And the only thing I could think was how I needed some new scenery and new people. And San Francisco sounded mighty tempting.
Sometimes you cannot go back and the only place to go is forward.