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During the three years that I worked a ‘9-to-5’ (though, in reality, it was more of a ’10-to-whenever-the-fuck-I-say, you-need-this-money- so-I’m-going-to-take-advantage-of-you, need-you-to-come-in-Saturdays-too, sorry-sucker’), I dated a freelancer. A few of them, actually.