I am moving to London.
Ten years ago, I was moving to North Carolina. I had just graduated high school and had chosen to go to a university several states away, where I didn't know anyone. But that was easy. I had other students and frat parties and keg beer to keep me company.
Six years ago, I was moving to New York City. This time, it wasn't exactly easy. I had no money, no job and was renting a crappy apartment in Brooklyn. (The scary part, not the trendy part.) But I was following my dreams of living in the Big City, and I couldn't wait to start my adult life.
Now, after completely falling in love with NYC -- and completely falling in love -- I'm leaving it behind and setting up shop in Mother England. Why, you ask? Is it because I adore roast dinners and cups of tea? Is it because I find sunny days a bit too pleasant? Nope, it's because I'm very happily married to a Brit.
Before we were married (or even engaged), I remember talking to my mom about our future. I told her that if I ended up with this guy, he may want to move back to England at some point. And you know what she said? "Honey, you do what you have to do to keep your man!"
Of course, that's not to say I'm not excited about the move. Quite the opposite, in fact. But it is hard to say goodbye to NYC: home to my closest friends, the cheapest cabs and the booziest brunch spots. Yes, I'm leaving the city I love -- but I have a sneaky feeling a steamy affair with foggy Londontown is about to begin.
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