This morning, I read an article about how crap-tastic my local job market is right now. Going on Month 4 of unemployment and borderline depression, I’m starting to think my BFF has the right idea looking for jobs out in Iowa. Forbes just named Des Moines the top job market in America. I have a college friend who lives out there who said if I seriously consider moving, he’d help me get set up. (And that’s not an offer of dick, he’d really actually help me.) But I don’t know…
I know Des Moines is a “city,” but it’s still Iowa. I’m comfortable admitting that I’m kind of an East Coast asshole. I’d definitely have to visit first, I can’t just fucking move to IOWA having never been there. I’m sure the corn-fed guys would dig me, but once they find out I won’t eat steak, I’ll probably get shunned. (“Shun the non-believer! Shuuuuuunnnnn!”)
Plus, between The Ex, my goddaughter, friends, and really the area itself, I feel a genuine connection to this place as Home. It’d be really hard to leave. (I understand that’s the point of moving to a new place and leaving everyone and everything behind — that it’s a Giant Life Change. But it’s only dramatic and poetic when you go to, like, Paris or Rome — some Eat Pray Love shit like that. Even California. Ain’t no one writing memoirs about Iowa. Hell, maybe I’d be the first! From Wawa to Iowa: My Journey of Self-Discovery. And Corn!)
Smug Singleton 