A Marriage of Convenience

While some of my friends have been contractors for years, that way of life never appealed to me. And now, more than 4 months into my life as a contractor, I know why. As I stepped into the elevator Friday evening, tired but not weary, alone but not lonely, it dawned on me: This must be what it feels like to be in a marriage of convenience.

No, I wasn't in love with my previous jobs or companies. But in every case, I'd chosen to be there. Even if things went sour in the end, as they did in one place that rhymes with Hell, things always started out well and offered some improvements over the last job.

However, my current job offers no such advantages. Sure, this is way better than unemployment. But that's about it. I appreciate the paycheck and the employment, don't get me wrong. It's better than sitting at home with no income. But this is not a job I would have picked out for the first dance. Or even the second or third. I might not have even noticed this job if it hadn't been arranged. And if something better had come along, I would've lept at it. But given the choice of this or nothing, well, I'd had enough of nothing.

There's no love in this relationship, though there's no hate either. It's not an abusive relationship. It's perfectly civil. And I know I'll get some twice a month, which, even if it's only obligatory, is still a big improvement over a frequency of zero. But even after 4 months, we still feel like strangers. We aren't compatible; circumstances forced us together. And it's difficult to shake that feeling that you settled for the consolation prize.

Sure, I've learned to live with it. I imagine most people in arranged marriages or marriages of convenience do too. But tolerating something you're not excited about doesn't lead to greater happiness. It just makes everything feel so humdrum instead.