Every once in a while something happens in my life that makes me stop cold and re-examine my life. It might be something as small as tripping over a crack in the street, a wayward glance from a stranger, or even a comment left on this very site challenging my views, and abilities to get out of my head and look in with a fresh perspective.

Last weekend, many of you know, I spent some time in long Beach with Smarty, TLBO and the Floppy Dork (TFD) and I had a most enjoyable trip. “Most enjoyable”, I said!! Something happened that I haven’t allowed for quite some time and I’m letting it percolate. I’m trying it on for size, and as much as it is pulling the rug our from under me and my life, I’m rather liking the fit. The color and texture are completely different for me, but I like the fit… it kinda hugs my ass in the right way (lifting and supporting) and totally makes me feel thin. (Like a super model at the Lone Star during a Sunday afternoon beverage benefit).

That concept is U-Haul Dating. It is a very familiar part of the gay/lesbo/hot-tranny-mess lifestyle. I mean come-on, we came up with a name for it! That right there should tell you it is a rather common occurrence.

I met a guy, lets call him, oh, I dunno, lets call him “Rob” while I was on holiday and spent a fair amount of time with him. At the beginning, I felt a little bit like Charo on her third cruise aboard The Love Boat (Episode 69, first aired 1/12/1980 when April [played by Charo] returns to the ship with her fiancé, a former used car sales man turned manager whom she has known only a few weeks and the crew is certain that he is scamming her). Yes, I felt exactly like that. I felt like I was on an hour long sitcom cruise where everything would be decided before we departed the ship, the credits rolled and the previews for next week began. But that’s not what happened.

The feelings traveled home with me.

When I returned to work on Tuesday and the boss inquired about my weekend and state of mind… something came out that shocked me. Completely shocked me. I told her that I could “see myself living in Long Beach”. She told me that I should talk to the big boss, because she knew he was looking for a few people in the L.A. office. I dismissed it, since I’ve only been with the company 6 months and in S.F. for 7 months. How could I pick up and move again so soon? I’ve been dreaming, and plotting and planning my return to the Bay Area for 8 long years. Eight years!! And I’m thinking of moving already? Surely I must be insane. The cost of living here must have turned my brain to mush; the bargain wine aisle and the ramen noodle diet must have zapped all decision-making abilities from me…

By chance, I had reason to speak with the big boss later that day (a rare occurrence, given that I’m rather self-sufficient when it comes to my job) and, I broached the topic. I threw it out there. I said “I’m not really sure how serious I am here, but…” and then I threw it out there… into the cosmos, into the light of day, and it felt right. The reaction took me by surprise. Excitement. He was excited at the idea. Even threw in some incentive.

And now… I’m fixated on making the decision. I know I need to act rather quickly on his offer, but I’m not sure what to do…

How many of the Love Boat guests survived their shipboard romances? How many children were created? Perhaps the most important question… how many ended in ugly divorces (though not quite as ugly as Denise Richards and Charlie Sheen’s) where china flew into walls and crashed to the floor in broken shards of failed love?

Though… gas is cheaper in Long Beach so there is that.