Seeking Companionship On A Journey Away From Here

He is sitting there, telling me about all his professional accomplishments while sipping his $15 drink, and I am sitting here, waiting for anyone to come and take me away from this place. Not just him, but everything in general. I am going to be putting out an ad on Craigslist fairly shortly seeking a partner who wants to escape reality. I need a partner with whom to run away from all this droll, mundane reality. I would like to sneak out in the middle of the night and never have to pay the bills again. I would like to stop worrying for a minute and unshackle myself from all these urban anxieties, and I would like someone there to kiss me when I’m done.

But not him. He’s sitting there, and here we are, talking about his work, yet again. He doesn’t want to run away with me. He isn’t seeking sunsets to ride off into like I am. I want happily ever after at the end of every day, and he wants the stock market to go up and for a raise and a promotion. He likes it here in this shark tank. He’s thriving. He’s telling himself that he’s happy, but I’m telling myself that I’m doing just fine in circumstances that aren’t ideal because I can still make the best of a shitty situation. He’s the one who built a world like this. I’m the one who’s quietly tearing it to pieces. My cell phone bill is a fucking joke, and there’s nothing dreamy about showing up to the doctor’s office to wait for two hours and pay with my Medi-Cal card just because I need one prescription filled. He makes a living off of all that.

I’m probably not going to call him back, mostly because I am looking for someone who will hold my hand and look me in the eyes and ask me if I want to eat ice cream or look at the clouds or lie in bed and do oral sex all day. Answer: I want to lie in bed and do oral sex all day, and after that eat ice cream. I’d rather sit and laugh with someone who might not be here tomorrow than suffer through a relationship with a man who fills the car with gas and buys the right toilet paper and fills my bank account with money I don’t really want. I don’t want to bicker about energy bills and why is the bathroom messy. I can figure that out on my own. But I can’t make me laugh like he makes me laugh, which is why I need him around. Because being an adult is its own burden, but feeling young again and like none of this really matters except us seems much more ideal.