Work Together

My relationship priorities, for reasons I have yet to fully grasp, seem to be meeting a woman who inspires me to both move to – or at least visit – another place, and one who inspires me to be more creative. A woman who inspires me, period. There’s more to it.

In my elaborate fantasy life of How Not To Do Things The Established Way And Still Succeed (which thus far has worked reasonably well) I dream of meeting a woman who would be my partner in all things, someone I could making my living and my home with. I have a soft spot for stories of couples successful in business, be their business techie, artistic, musical, whatever. The romantic and pragmatic in me see this as a perfect expression of love: two people able to build their livelihood together. Moreover, the thought of spending the rest of my working life waiting from 9 to 5 to come home to my love is one of those absurd indignities of modern life I simply want to eschew.

I’ve been successful in building a life for myself, perhaps too easily. I want that shattered by another person. I want my world thrown into wonderful disarray, and I want to pick up the pieces with someone else.

Such sentiment is, of course, the privilege of my current comfortable situation and born of naivety, as I’ve never so much as lived with a partner for an extended period. But whatever the cause and the circumstance, I can’t escape the idea.