No, I want to marry a producer. A producer listens to the most batshit crazy idea and doesn’t say yes or no or ask why, but instantly asks “How?” She could talk me out of dumb things with grace and logic, or conversely show me what it’s possible to do with virtually nothing. A producer realizes that just as business and creativity need each other, responsibility (her) and irresponsibility (me) do too. A producer wouldn’t be afraid of different challenges, no matter what form they took. A producer would be tough, fighting battles I’d neither see nor even know about. A producer would plan for a rainy day and not even tell me she was doing it and then, when it started to rain, she’d say, “It’s covered, go over to the food table.” A producer would stay up all night partying with me, then make sure what needs to get done gets done, while I sleep. Marrying a producer would allow me to be as self-absorbed, self-indulgent, self-congratulatory, naval-gazing and “creative” as I want to be.