Marriage does not hold the same draw for me that it once did. You have to grow and change together—and I’m getting pretty set in my ways. I’m not sure if I’m capable of having a traditional marriage, but I could definitely have an arrangement. Marriage is hard; an arrangement is sexy, bold, mature. Getting married says, “I’m a romantic.” Having an arrangement says, “I know how the world works.” I’d, of course, like to fall in love, but if that isn’t in the cards I think it’s wise to have some creative solutions ready as a backup. The following are the arrangements I think I could live with.

The Lavender Marriage

A marriage of convenience to hide the fact that one or both of you is in the closet. I am so down to be some fun gay guy’s beard. I love going to a party with a secret. I used to think this sort of arrangement was just for famous people, but regular people do it now, too! Like Botox.

The Business Partners

This works best between two sociopathic characters on a prestige TV show, but, I mean, I belong in a power couple. And there’s something kind of cool about a practical, loveless joint venture. Maybe you have sex occasionally, but it’s purely for stress management. Not that this situation is entirely devoid of romance. Finding someone as cutthroat as you must feel like fate.

The Artist and Their Muse

I know, I know—I can’t be the muse. I’m not a free spirit. I don’t have the bone structure. My eyes are smaller than my nose and they can’t peer into your soul. My hair isn’t adorably short or impossibly long, and I’ve never woken up to find someone watching me sleep. (I have had boyfriends take photos of how stupid I look while I’m sleeping and text them to me later as a joke.) Some people are so beautiful that uglier, more well-read people have no choice but to spend years trying to capture that beauty through their art. So, O.K., I’m not the muse, but I could sit by a window, gazing at my wife dancing naked in the rain, and live a life inspired by the curve of her neck. She won’t love me as much as I love her, but that’s fine. I’ll have my work to keep me company when she doesn’t come home at night.

Polyamory

I’ve tried it. Half-heartedly, but I tried it. I’d like to be the type of person who could do this. Not in Hollywood, though. Out there in the real world. I’d love to live on a farm and work the land with my various lovers—who all love each other, too—having babies and planting vegetables. When polyamorous people pitch you on polyamory, it makes a ton of sense. It also makes sense when someone explains how to do a cartwheel. That doesn’t mean I can.

Pen Pals

Call me old-fashioned or avoidant or whatever, but I am obsessed with the idea of a pen pal. I’ve never had one and I want one so bad. There have been times when I’m about to re-download a dating app, and I consider writing to a prison inmate instead. Let me fall in love with somebody’s soul, goddammit. I want to masturbate to their handwriting.

Infirm Person and Caregiver

I don’t know if falling in love with someone who is dying is still a popular young-adult-novel trope (“A Walk to Remember,” “The Fault in Our Stars,” etc.), but it was when I was a teen. That popular plotline and my own personal, trauma-rooted fear of terminal illness have made this scenario seem like a likely option because I assume that whoever marries me will inevitably have to deal with my getting sick. Whenever I date someone, I think, Would you stay and take care of me, or would you run? I once told my siblings that my boyfriend at the time would make a “great cancer husband.” They understood immediately.

Gold and Gold-Digger

I like it when rich people know that they’re being loved for their money. Hell, most of us are being loved for one aspect of ourselves above all others. It may not be your bank account, it may be your kindness or sense of humor or massive hog, but there’s one thing that your partner mentions first every time they’re asked to list your positive qualities.

Common-Law Divorced

This is a popular one. You hate each other but you stay married anyway—avoiding eye contact in the hallway, curling up on opposite ends of the couch, buying a California-king mattress—just a couple of martyrs keeping it together for the kids.

Phantom of the Opera and Innocent Ingénue

At this point, I’m too old to be the latter, so I will have to find a mask that fits.

Strapping Young Man and Worldly Withholding Woman

I’m not sure how old I have to be to do this, but I feel like it’s forty. You can probably start sooner if you’ve had more life experience and are willing to date younger—I personally couldn’t stomach anyone under the age of twenty-seven. For me, forty feels like the point at which I will start considering this option. (This arrangement is not to be confused with Old Soul and Cradle Robber, which we all know is disgusting.)

Cheating Genius and Loyal Wife

I think it’s sort of chic to make peace with your husband’s infidelity. To have people divulge his indiscretions to you, in an attempt to save you from this life, only to have you take a long drag of your cigarette and say, “You think I don’t know? That’s very sweet, darling. But I know who I married.”

Nun and God

If I get desperate enough, I will return to my old flame—the Lord. Sure, He tells you what to do and wear, but He’s not around that much. And you get so much quality time with other equally yoked women.

Addict and Vice

If I spend too many Christmases alone, this is bound to happen. I will develop an all-consuming addiction in the place of true love. (A low-energy addiction, of course. Booze or weed, not sex or bungee jumping.)

Fuck Buddies at the Old Folks’ Home

Better late than never, right? I would be O.K. with a lifelong lack of action if I got to have a powerful, whirlwind romance right at the buzzer. Maybe my roommate is another woman who devoted her life to her career and now, at ninety-seven, is finally slowing down. Maybe we start out as friends. Then, one day, our watery eyes meet over bowls of bland oatmeal and we just know. We die trying to have sex. Everyone talks about it for weeks. If you can’t have a good marriage, have a good story. ♦

This is drawn from “Actually, Nevermind.”