Moving to Florida

Early last month, I was on my annual summer trip to Massachusetts, with my future up in the air. I was considering relocating from D.C. to that area, where a longstanding job offer had been extended my way by some down-to-earth people who would make excellent bosses. I intended to have some conversations up there to explore that career, but those conversations never developed.

Simultaneously, I devised a crazy idea about being a traveling bandleader at conventions that had nothing to do with music but, statistically speaking, probably had some amateur musicians in their ranks who could form a band around me to entertain the convention's attendees. Not knowing how such an idea could get off the ground, I shelved it.

But something very fortuitous came to me while I was in Florida: I fell in love with a woman named Layla. Her name symbolizes a great song. In fact, it is for that song her hippie mom named her in 1973. And while I consider myself well-versed in classic rock, Layla actually knew the story behind that song in more depth than I could yammer on about. It was easy to fall in love with Layla, and she wasn't expecting it at all when I planted my first kiss on her lips one night in Massachusetts. The kiss certainly wasn't unwelcome by any means, and it was the following day when we explored our romance further.

It has been growing ever since those early days of August. She has become a big part of my life, and I hers. We now talk on the phone for long periods each day, usually starting and ending each day together as if we were in each other's arms, just as was true when we both were visiting Massachusetts and when I spent the following week at her house in Florida. My desire to be with Layla, and possibly to spend my life with her, helped me to decide where I will be moving once I leave D.C.

I have found it is surprisingly much cheaper to live in Layla's neck of the woods. She will be picking me up at the Fort Lauderdale airport tomorrow early in the evening, and we will be spending our first weekend together at a house her grandparents own in the Miami area. It will be a great opportunity for Layla and me to share some one-on-one time and for me to give the green light to my plan of relocating to be near her and sort of start over.

The plan is to find an apartment in or near Boca Raton with a fraternity brother of mine from college who wants to relocate down there from Pennsylvania and then making the move around my birthday, Nov. 12.

In the meantime, the expiration date on my D.C. driver's license has long been Nov. 12, 2008, and it doesn't make sense to shell out the money required to renew it only if I would be forfeiting it in a matter of days or weeks in favor of a Florida driver's license.

Also, I became cognizant of the Oct. 4 registration deadline for Florida voters to participate in the 2008 general election. Given my inclination to vote for one major party ticket over the other, and also given the contentious nature of Florida votes, I am going to obtain my Florida driver's license and voter registration this Saturday afternoon in Broward County, ensuring I can vote in the Florida election either in person on Nov. 4 or by absentee ballot, thereby lending my support to my candidate in a jurisdiction where the vote would be much more meaningful to him than in the overwhelmingly one-sided D.C.

And if life down in Florida doesn't work out for the long term, that's OK because I will have just spent the winter near the tropics and a short drive from the Atlantic Ocean! I don't see what could be wrong with that.

Note that my plan does not involve moving in with Layla straight away. This is for a number of reasons. I have learned from past experiences of hastily signing leases to share confined living quarters with the girl to whom I was engaged and, a few years before that, with my one and only college girlfriend -- although I kept that living arrangement over my senior year of college secret from much of my family at the time.

I have learned much about relationships over 10 years of dating, and I do not believe I am currently repeating any mistakes from my past, such as ignoring red flags. Sure, Layla is responsible for four children of her own and still has to deal with their two fathers. That's all the more reason for me to play it cool and not become heavily involved in their lives overnight. The kids are all at impressionable ages and must be approached cautiously. The three youngest still don't know Mommy has a boyfriend, and they won't know that until they first get to know me as a person. I have met only the oldest kid, who's somewhat of an emotionally withdrawn 16-year-old boy, but not the three youngest. It is a delicate situation, and imposing myself on them by suddenly showing up as a stranger moving in and sharing a bed with Mommy is certainly not an appropriately delicate response. So, when I get into town, Layla and I will drastically alter our long-distance relationship and then start "dating like normal people." She has a great head on her shoulders and, from what I can tell, is a reasonable mother. All of this was easily agreed on mutually, rationally and naturally.

So, I move to Florida. No, I don't have a career or even a local job lined up to begin as soon as I get there, but the part-time and freelance work I am doing now are things I could do from anywhere by telecommuting. I am scanning the job circuit in the region too, in case something absolutely perfect for me pops up as either a full-time career or additional freelance or part-time work. I do intend to make a living and have more income than expenses, which is something I have not been doing all summer long in D.C. The cheaper rent in Florida is sure to help me out in that regard.

So, there you have it: my long journey that took me to where I am today and is leading me to an exciting future that's sure to be different from everything I have known. I am moving first and foremost for myself. But I am also moving for Layla, for her four kids, and for our next president, Barack Obama. God bless America!