In love with a bad boy

Being a freelancer is like being in a bad relationship. A tumultuous whirlwind of consuming emotions, dizzying highs and crushing lows.

When it’s good, it’s wonderful. Getting up in the morning is easier, your heart swells with self-congratulation and you become one of those interminable tossers that bangs on unceasingly about how great everything is, dishing out ill-gotten pearls of wisdom about your pursuits to anyone who has had the misfortune of stumbling into your cloud of smug. Life… It’s just good, you know? *Big moon-faced smile*

But then there are the other days. Days when freelancing treats you like crap and you take to the sofa with a family-sized bar of chocolate, sighing theatrically at everything on the TV.

‘What happened?’ ask your friends and you tell them about your day full of rejection and empty promises and being ignored.

‘You’re better than this!’ lament your friends. ‘You need to bin this for good.’

‘But I can’t!’ you wail. ‘I love it!’

‘Well it obviously doesn’t love you,’ they reply. ‘You deserve to do something that treats you with respect and kindness.’

‘OH MY GOD YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND JUST SHUT UP,’ you yell, huffing up the stairs.

But they’re right. Freelancing doesn’t love you, and it never will. The best you can hope for are infrequent acts of compassion and the occasional ray of light that results in you boring your friends to tears with a verbal diatribe on how things will be different this time around.

Will it? Maybe. There’s always the chance that things will change, and that’s why you stick with it.


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One response to “In love with a bad boy

  1. Oh Lordy, you’re so right! I wrote an almost identical blog post a couple of months ago
    Sorry to hear you’ve hit a low. If you’re free on Sunday late-afternoon/eve I’m having a small, slightly-belated birthday get-together in Covent Garden – you’re very welcome to come.

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