I have been told I write too much on every fast platform I have ever joined. Three paragraphs, apparently, is intense. On the written board the same three paragraphs are simply an advert, people answer them at a similar length, and nobody has ever told me to calm down. It is identical text. The medium decides whether it reads as interest or as a warning.
Forty seven, east London, switch, sixteen years in, one arrangement that ran seven years and ended when he moved for a job neither of us wanted him to turn down.
I lead in a settled, domestic way and I hand things over perhaps a third of the time, with somebody I know well. I am not looking to alternate on a schedule. I am looking for somebody who can read which way the week is going without requiring a formal conversation about it every time.
What I want is ongoing, structured, weekly, with real terms and an actual review rather than a slow drift into nothing.
Not looking for anybody who wants to be surprised all the time. Not looking for somebody who finds planning unromantic, because planning is most of what makes this work. And not looking to be told again that a long message means I am too much, given that the last person who said it had written to me first.