Seems Like a Prolonged Excuse to Mope

For some years now, the Object has been trying to get me to move to Portland. He talks about how green it is, how great the music scene is,and how much generally cooler the peoples there are, as determined by the disaffected nature of its youth, and the griminess of its hipsters scum, a layer of filth that we in DC can only aspire to.

And then I read that Portland is the Unhappiest City in America.

Portland was tops among a study of 50 of the largest metro areas that looked at a variety of factors, including the rates of depression, suicide, divorce, crime and unemployment, as well as the weather and the amount of green space.

So, the Object wants me to quit my job and move to a place where I'll really never get a job (it's not really known as an international city), get depressed because it rains all the time and there's no green space, break up with him and turn to a life of crime, eventually committing suicide. I wonder if he's trying to tell me something?

I'll take it with a grain of salt. The Object is not 100% clear on how women work. Not long ago, we were talking about a fundraiser for ovarian cancer. He asked me, "How do you know that I donated? Maybe I don't support healthy boobies!"