“Less competition for jobs, for one.” I could write lifestyle and entertainment features for the local paper—like the Stars Hollow Gazette from Gilmore Girls. I’d binge-watched the series on Netflix and loved it. Mother and daughter living in a storybook town, surrounded by eccentric neighbors? Yes, please.

“Not necessarily. With fewer people come fewer opportunities.”

I chewed my lip. “True.” I was fairly certain the Stars Hollow Gazette had a staff of five. “But I’ll bet the residents are friendlier and not as attached to their phones.” Although I was too young to remember the small town where I was born, I pictured bright blue skies, green grass, and trees—a lot of trees. I envisioned a town square buzzing with activity. I imagined being greeted by everyone who crossed our path like they knew us. Where neighbors weren’t just people who happened to live on the same street but people we could trust, who watched out for us like family.

“Doubtful. Small-town life is so dull. I’m sure everyone is glued to TMZ and MTV News all day.”

I mock-glared at her. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

“Dating is probably less complicated. With a smaller population, word would get around about guys who stood up their dates or went MIA after a month. Who would take the risk of being labeled a flake?” A dating pool where men sought more from a connection than their own gratification or just passing the time, and where dick pics weren’t a thing, sounded heavenly.

“For one thing, love and sex are never simple. And for another, our pickings would be so slim, we’d run out of available men. You’d never have that problem here.”

“You met Dad in a small town!” They’d been high school sweethearts. “I’m not sure having unlimited options is a good thing.” I’d venture the single life in small towns was more about romantic walks and drinking cocoa than getting drunk and laid. Sex was great, but I’d bet it was even better in a relationship based on friendship, mutual respect, and attraction.