Suitors with More than One Job
There is something very swoony about these guys. You know, the carpenter/musician, the housepainter/sculptor, the dentist/photographer. This guy exudes a certain brooding poetry, a vulnerability, and a disarming zest for sex anywhere and anytime, including fields and stairwells. And he'll write a song about you, because even if a "/" guy is a plumber/poet, he still plays the guitar. They all play the guitar. Accoustic. Without such guys, no women in NYC would have had a date for the past three decades.
Our guy will thrill us when in his twenties and early thirties. But he will undoubtedly not be so cute in his forties and fifties, when he will still be wandering around vaguely with plaster in his hair, clutching his beloved fifty-year-old Gibson guitar. It is the law that when a "/" guys hits forty-five, he must move to Berkeley or Austin, Texas, and smoke pot until he dies.
Yes, he does have the capacity to form a permanent pair bond, although he will never actually mature. You will be supporting him. You will also spend an awful lot of time listening to him pick out Richard Thompson tunes on the guitar, bobbing your head, snapping your fingers and closing your eyes in perfect bliss, even though you're secretly thinking about handbags.
I myself have spent approximately three decades sitting on sofas, smiling with a bright rictus of appreciation while assorted men serenaded me. There was a huge parade of them