Texas

I lived in Texas for a little bit over a year. If you are looking for cultural polar opposites, right here in the good old USA, take a girl from Staten Island and transplant her in Corpus Christi, Texas. I moved down there when I was 24 after rocking a year long long-distance relationship with my now husband, Tom. We met at a wedding, went on one date and then he moved to Texas. We visited each other over the next few months, always romantic dinners and nights on the town in NYC, or super fun extended weekends on the RiverWalk in San Antonio. We drove to Mexico in an open Jeep on one of my visits. We stayed at Bed and Breakfasts in Spring Lake New Jersey. We did all the fun grown up date things that my short stint as an adult had not afforded up to that point. I still lived with my parents and commuted 2 hours a day (each way) to a job that I didn't love and wasn't very good at in Downtown Manhattan. I hung out with high school and college friends at dive bars in the Village at happy hour several nights a week. Tom had mentioned that I should move down there, more than once. I was all, no way, what in the hell will I, a sophisticated city girl from New York do in South Texas? He pointed out that I was working in a job that I didn't like, living in my childhood bedroom, spending my meager paychecks on cheap business suits and plane tickets to see him. I was sold.

One night after running into my ex at the Jersey Shore (I know, I know) for the 11th year in a row of nonsense, I had a moment of clarity. What am I doing? Why not? I decided that night, albeit in a beery haze that I was leaving and was ready to make the jump. Plans ensued immediately.

I made plans to go, put in my notice at work and was ready to go as of  October 1. Literally 2 days before I was supposed to go I got a call that Tom was being deployed for 2 months to Puerto Rico. Huh????? OK.. So now I had to beg my way back into my job for a few more weeks and my life was put on hold. I wasn't able to talk to him but for the occasional phone call from a pay phone over the next few weeks, but I was full speed ahead about going. So on New Year's Day I boarded a plane to Corpus Christi to start my new life. In the land of boob jobs, big hair and rodeos. All of which were definitely not a part of my previous life experience.

Finding a job was a lesson in frustration. I couldn't just find a job. I worked at a temp office as a receptionist and then was placed in a series of jobs that were not for me. Least of which was at an automotive parts company where I was sexually harrassed by my new boss on my first day when he took me out to lunch. I still remember eating a cobb salad, all shy and nervous, wearing a short sleeve cardigan and long skirt from (eeeeeek!) Casual Corner and brown loafer heels with little silver buckles. While we were eating he asked me what my "boyfriend" did. I told him he was in the Coast Guard. He asked me if he carried a gun. I told him that I thought he did. Then he asked me if I'd ever been pistol whipped. Wait.. Whuuuuuuttttt???????? Back at the office I told him that it wasn't a good fit (and the $9 an hour they were paying me wasn't that much motivation to stay) and went back to the temp office to tell them what had happened. Keep in mind, I knew these women fairly well  since I had worked their front desk for 2 months. They were very sympathetic and had me set up with an interview and a job offer in just a few days. The job was a great fit, the money was terrible, but the girls in the office were fun but a little standoffish. Every day almost the entire small office of women would leave together at lunch time and come back an hour and a half to two hours later and have lunch together. Day after day, week after week. They never  once asked me. Three months go by of me keeping a stiff upper lip and eating at my desk over a book or magazine and going home and crying to Tom that noone liked me. My boss was great, everyone was pretty nice, they joked with me about being a yankee and that they were rednecks. But still no offers to join them. It sucked. I hated Texas. I hated the country music. I hated mariachi and 32 ounce Dr. Peppers.  I hated their devotion to Selena. I hated that they had a jar of jalapenos at the McDonalds condiment counter.I wanted to be there with Tom but I was so homesick and felt like my friends at home had completely forgotten me. I spent my nights watching Dawson's Creek and Felicity making chicken potpies. I was lonely and probably beginning my longterm relationship with depression and anxiety.

Finally, after three months of loneliness at the office I was promoted from Temp to Permanent Employee. I was invited to lunch. Weird, right? They told me that the ladies at the temp office told them that I had issues with men, and was hypersensitive and that something must have happened to me, so they should bide their time and see if I worked out or basically freaked out. Can you imagine? Needless to say, things got better after that but I spent the remainder of my time crossing days off my calendar waiting to move to our next venue, Washington, DC, where we would live after our upcoming wedding. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, but am so glad I did it. I think sometimes of where I might be had I not made that jump. Married (and probably divorced) to someone from high school, or still hopelessly single, prowling the upper east side, who knows? I feel like living there has given me a perspective that others lack that never left their hometowns, or took a chance, or followed their hearts or dreams.  So here I am.