The fine line between an artist and a TOTAL LOSER

I’ll admit it right here, right now: I’ve always been a total sucker for the “artsy” guy. Now that I’m venturing into single early twenties territory, I’m sorta wishing Kurt Cobain hadn’t been my love interest when I was younger.

If I could have just had a super crush on a lawyer…or even a football player…maybe everything would be more normal in my love life.

Maybe I wouldn’t find myself waking up on an air mattress in a loft in Williamsburg… pinching myself and then repeating over and over, “He’s an ARTIST, Elizabeth…he’s an ARTIST.”

But I’m an artist, too. Hell, all I do is write everything from books to songs all day. I even paint. And take pictures. And I dance. And I do mosaic. AND I sleep on a REAL bed in a real apartment that has heat and cable and plants that aren’t dead.

And so I sit on the train pondering this question. With every hipster/artsy looking boy I see, I wonder if he too sleeps on an air mattress. Is this a prerequisite for being cool?

Certainly, my artist lovers past….which would be…ugh…all of my lovers past…didn’t all sleep on air mattresses. In fact, I can only think of one other.

And then I realized:

It is a true struggle being an artist. Especially in a big city. It DOES take time to develop yourself and hone your talents so that you can begin to generate money. However, as I look around my romantic circles…and triangles…I notice something: plenty of the guys who I have dated who are artists have real beds. And some of them have multiple houses. And yachts. And while this point is not at all about material things, there is something to be said for an artist who has harnessed their skills well enough to live like a comfortable, regular person. Although their lives are anything but regular, being able to have the perks of a regular, stable life while doing exactly what you love for a living is a marker of success, to me.

And so I won’t be sleeping on the air mattress again.

Not because I am above it.

And not because it’s necessarily uncomfortable.

But because I’m no longer in that place.

I’m in a place where my art is paying for itself and so I need to leave Mr. Air Mattress in Williamsburg Loft to the high school musical theater girls who will feed off of his “independence” like vultures.

Meanwhile, I’ll be out sipping wine with another hot artist boy who CAN afford to drink outside of his loft.

The line between an accomplished artist and a total loser is very fine. And to be fair, almost all artists were once total losers. But if I’m gonna be a sucker for the artsy guy, well, these days…I’m gonna go ahead and be a sucker while sleeping in a warm, REAL bed. Which, if I may note, Kurt Cobain DID eventually have.