First of all, I wasn't finding a job back home. The market here isn't great, but I still managed to get a job, and that does fill one with a certain sense of accomplishment. In my entire jobhunt, I had two interviews: one was a mass-interview for an insurance company which would require that I become certified first, while the other was working as something like an orderly in something like a nursing home, but they turned me down. I really didn't want either job, though. Largely, because of my second reason.
My second reason is that I had friends here. Two of my dearest friends. Some might say my two dearest friends. They had gotten married last year, and wanted me to come live here. We'd talked about it briefly before. For some reason, they finally succeeded. The difference was my first reason, combined with my third reason.
My third reason was a woman named Renée. We'd met at the wedding of those same two friends. She was a nearly-lifelong friend of the bride. I was a college friend of both. And due to a coincidence in the heights of groomsmen and bridesmaids, we ended up walking together at their wedding. Because we walked, we also danced. Our relationship didn't begin then. It was quite a while before we even admitted we liked each other. But that was the moment I fell for her. That was when I knew that, sooner or later, I needed to move to New York.
