Stranger In A Strange Land

All the time I spent in L.A. previous to this weekend was grounded in Ex Boyfriend. He was, for lack of a better term, my identity in Los Angeles. I knew the people he knew, went the places he frequented, lived in his apartment, took my meals with him, drove his car. When I went out, he was my explanation for why I was in L.A. He was my deflector when I got hit on in bars. He taught me L.A. etiquette. I fell in love with his L.A.
And L.A. without him is a different place.
We did get to spend Friday night together, in which I learned : A) He is now seeing a much older actor; B) We have little in common other than each other; C) He can be effing mean when he wants to.
The night I spent in that apartment (completely chaste, thank you very much) was surreal. I've spent countless nights in that apartment. It was my other home for 9 months. But now it's as if Lacuna Inc. had been there. I have been erased; not that there was a life-sized portrait of me hanging over the couch or anything, but little things are missing. Little things that used to say "I have a boyfriend and he spends a lot of time here and I love him." And now they're gone. And I'm sure he would feel the same in my apartment.
And speaking of erased memories, I give you a little conversation from the weekend, including what may possibly go down in Dan history as the meanest thing anyone has ever said to me:
Dan: ... We went there in January, don't you remember?
Ex Boyfriend: You weren't here in January.
Dan: Yes I was.
Ex Boyfriend: No you weren't.
Dan: Yes, I was. It was the last time we saw each other. Last time we were together... I quit my job and spent a week here.
Ex Boyfriend: I don't remember.
Dan: How could you not?
Ex Boyfriend: Maybe because I choose to use my memory for important things that I will actually need in the future, like academics and school stuff, instead of-
Dan: Stop talking. Right. Now. I mean it. Don't finish that sentence.
(If you're reading this, J: You have no idea how much that hurt my feelings.)

ANYWAYS, I started to relearn L.A. without Ex Boyfriend. And I still like it. The apartments are HUGE, the weather is amazing, yada yada yada.
To Cliff's Notes it: I was staying with my friend Alex, who was attending a wedding the night I left. He pulled out a shirt and his suit, and I asked him if he had a tie to match the shirt. His response: "I'm not wearing a tie. It's L.A."
But I've decided that I'm not going anywhere just yet. I'm going to stick with my cushy job. I'm going to take the California Bar Exam in February, so that I can actually have earning potential out there and not just end up some assistant who spends his nights rubbing salve into the blisters resulting from some dickbag agent throwing hot coffee in his face for $35k a year. I'm going to chill the Eff out, breathe for a year and then make life altering decisions.
But until then, I'm not really worrying about it. It's L.A.