Say Goodbye to Hollywood

Just when I’d finally gotten used to the idea of three months in Los Angeles, the deal fell apart. In the end it was my choice not to go – I decided there were too many strings attached, and I didn’t want to be in the position of fighting for something that realistically I might hate. But still, I feel a bit let down.

Part of what made the negotiations fall apart was that – partially fearing I could be stuck there for months against my will, and partially because it’s true – I was open with everyone about wanting to get my permanent residency in England. I never thought I’d last this long, but now that residency – as in, the ability to work here without my current employer (or anyone else) sponsoring me – is within my grasp (10.5 months), I don’t want to give it up. Unfortunately, without the three-month respite of LA (where I likely would have worked at least twice as hard as I already do, but the assignments would have been good), I’m already wondering how I’m going to make it that long.

* * *

My date Friday night cancelled at 3:30 p.m. – as in, four hours before we were supposed to meet up.

Via e-mail.

Claiming possible illness.

No mention of rescheduling.

I wasn’t all that into him – this was the friend of a friend I went out with over the summer, and for one reason or another (see “not all that into him”) we haven’t met up again. But still, I was (unreasonably?) disappointed when he cancelled. A date’s a date. And what he did is especially crummy on a Friday night.