Never trust a pretty face (Part two)

So, we were back in touch. Small talk ensued. Eventually events of the past were brought up; by him initially. He apologised. I apologised (I wasn't actually sorry about anything other than letting him into my knickers, but I have a reflexive habit of returning a sorry with one of my own). He liked me, but didn't want to like me. He thought we would get along. I liked him but didn't trust him to stick around, something which he found insulting, despite admitting that he just wants to Be Alone and Focus on His Art (did I mention he's a writer with a Bukowski complex?). The upshot was that we confused each other and ourselves and agreed that Facebook wasn't the best forum for such a conversation and we should leave it for another time. We tried to move on.

Which brings me to The Fight. He announced his new life plan (based on a Bukowski poem, of course) was to be alone, focus on writing, travel in his van and fund it all by money earned through medical trials. Apparently, loneliness produces great art, the hard times are the best and tragedy can be exciting; he has no time for people in jobs they hate complaining about being bored. Just quit! Focus on your art! etc, etc. I announced that I thought that this was bullshit, there is nothing romantic and glamorous about tragedy or loneliness and that for most people, they don't have an art they can rely on and therefore have to y'know, work in order to buy food.

We haven't spoken since; he, I assume, is offended by my outpouring of scorn on his life plan and I am too infuriated by his pretentious and immature outlook to talk to him.

For me, the whole debate has raised some serious questions. Do you have to agree with someone's life philosophy to still have romantic feelings for them? And does it matter when their life philosophy makes them completely unsuitable for longterm attachment? Then finally, exactly what do I value more? Security and love? Or artistic - and therefore possibly spiritual - fulfillment and satisfaction? Answers on a postcard please, because I don't have a fucking clue. One thing I do know - I've been through hard times whilst alone before, and it wasn't inspiring or interesting or exciting; it was hell and I'd do anything not to have to go there again.