I am not a powerful man looking to put something down

Every article ever written about men like me describes somebody carrying enormous responsibility who wants to put it down for an evening. I am a records clerk. Nobody has asked me to decide anything of consequence in my entire working life, and what I want has nothing to do with relief. I want somebody's judgement applied to how I live, because left to myself I live like a man waiting for something to start.

Thirty nine, Manhattan, a one bedroom I have had for eleven years, no children. Two dynamics behind me: one of five months that was mostly a misunderstanding, and one of two years that was not.

The two year one worked because she was interested in the ordinary parts. What I ate, when I slept, whether I had rung my brother back, whether the thing I said I would sort out in March had been sorted out. Written down it sounds like being managed. It felt like being taken seriously for the first time since I was a young man.

So what I want is a woman who leads and who cares about the dull half. Standing duties, a weekly review, a standard that gets checked rather than assumed.

Not looking for an evening. Not looking to be an antidote to anybody's working day. Not looking for a woman who wants a big job and a big surrender in the same man, because I have neither and I stopped apologising for that some years ago.