Twenty five, broke, and none of what I want costs anything

I am twenty five, I share a flat with three people, and I cycle everywhere because the fare adds up in a way that actually matters to me. I am saying this at the top because I have twice been in conversations that quietly assumed a level of spending I do not have, and both times I let it run too long before admitting it.

The east, eighteen months in, one weekend last year that was the best thing that has happened to me and did not repeat because she moved.

The thing is, none of what I want requires money. I want to be given tasks and to do them properly. I want somebody who expects a message at a set time and notices when it does not come. I want to be useful in a flat: shopping carried up, things fixed, the boring parts of a week taken off somebody's hands. That costs me effort and time, which I have in quantity, and nothing else.

What I cannot do is anything that assumes a car, a hotel, or an evening out that would cost me a week of food. I would rather say that plainly than turn up and be careful with the menu.

I am fit, I am early for everything, and I will cycle across this city in the rain without complaining once. If that is worth more to somebody than a man with a bigger salary and less time, I would like to hear from her.