So you’ve made the jump and moved to one of the creative epicenters of our world – whether it be London, Paris, Berlin, New York or Milan, there is one thing you should know: you are in danger.
Artists are prowling the streets, smoking rollies on the corners of every semi-gentrified emigrant neighborhood; they smell like broken showers, cheap powdered laundry soap and soaked beans (an affliction that comes from living with seven vegan roommates). But if you’re still not swayed, read below for our 5 reasons to never date an artist.
1. Ego, Ego, Ego.
You’ve found him: a Carhartt-wearing Jesus with a paintbrush and you’ve made a date (he canceled three times, reason: artist problems). Fourth time’s the charm though and you’re going to that underground Buddhist-Asian-burger-fusion-restaurant Karaoke-strip-club that “no one has ever heard of.” Expect to spend your entire date hearing why he is the “next big thing” in art and get used to hearing this. Oh, and he’s broke so you’re going to be footing that wasabi infused dinner bill.
Warning: ego can be compared with dick size. They either got a big one or they don’t have much at all. If you find yourself an artist on the other side of the ego spectrum, expect tears, cheap Porto and weeks on end without seeing your reclusive artist lover come out of painting hibernation.
2. Emotional Roller Coaster Of Doom.
So romantic: stretched naked in his Parisian studio as your artist boyfriend captures every curve and dimple on your body. Then you see it. Like the hulk, bubbling up in anger, his eyes bulge, the spit starts to fly from his lips as he screams “Va te faire foutre sale conasse!” and tears the canvas with his teeth. Expect a spectrum of emotions from weeping into soiled rags to five day benders where he arrives wearing half the clothing he left with and bathroom stall poetry newly tattooed on him that he felt “was a raw cry of humanity.”
3. They Are Weird.
Prepare for some shame because there’s going to be nights when your pensive and deep Van Gogh develops himself into a drunken, ear-cutting nightmare. A possible scenario: him stealing wine from the table next to you while moving a lamp around his head singing “jingle bells” in-between exclamations that he doesn’t drink milk because it makes his farts smell like dead animals. Occurrences like this will happen. If you’re in for the long haul, remember: shit’s gonna get weird.
4. Stress Levels.
Prepare for drama because If he isn’t choking on his own vomit after smoking opium with a bunch of Hungarian prostitutes, or overdosing on his grandmother’s thyroid pills, he’s probably thinking of throwing himself dramatically from your bedroom window (even if you only live one floor up). Yes, the romantic idea of an artist trying to commit suicide because he is so desperately in love with you might be beautiful in books, but in reality turns out it’s a pain in the ass. Romeo syndrome is a common artist affliction. At some point – even if he is 38 – he’s going to try to join the 27 club. P.S. hide the cough syrup and put emergency on speed dial.
5. You Aren’t The Only One.
Sure the sex might seem like performance art itself and the parties and weird people you meet might seem exciting, but know this: you aren’t the only one. Somewhere, someone else is having their colors swirled with your beloved Michelangelo’s brush. That show in Prague? Really a girl named Svetlana who can tie a cherry stem with her toes. Oh, and that meeting in Milano? Cecelia who tastes better than any Italian Stracciatella gelato. That being said, in this day and age, monogamy is a varnished after-thought. So if you’re ok with sharing your easel, the show can go on! But now it’s time to make a personal decision: should you ever date an artist? No matter what type of artist you fall for, the egocentric realist, the ego-less surrealist, the crazed cubist or the boring modernist, know this: love in reality is weird. Artists are simply the vehicles that magnify the strangeness in humanity. So if you’re up for a long drive down some roads you never knew existed, by all means get in that car. But honestly, getting married to someone who works office hours with no space for creativity, having two kids, a dog and getting fat is all starting to sound pretty good.
Article by Tristan Boisvert & Chris Phillips
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