The problem is that we can say what we will do until the moment comes to actually do it. This much being said . . . .
I don't think that I could ever wind up with anyone who was not a diver. In the beginning of a relationship, when you explain about diving, what it means and how frequently you go diving, your partner does not get it even if he/she hears what you are saying. Inevitably, down the road, you are going to hear things like: "Diving, AGAIN?!!! You just went six months ago." What do you think this person will think when you explain that you must dive frequently to keep up your proficiency?
Of course, bringing home a new relationship for the first time is its own brand of fun. Right now, when you enter my condo, you can have a lovely view of where a diningroom used to be (I have long since gotten rid of the impractical diningroom table) that is now filled with tanks, spare parts and the like. You can open the "coat closet" to find it filled with helium and oxygen cascades. Enter the master bathroom; the bath tub has long since been converted to a drying rack. "When are you going to get rid of all this junk?" comes to mind. Junk? JUNK? How dare you?!
How about the hours of preparation as the coming weekend approaches? The equipment checks and packing the night before (which, coincidentally usually falls on a Friday or Saturday night)? Or how about finding out that a thirty minute dive outing actually means pretty much the whole day by the time you add in the time traveling to and from the boat, the dive itself, the post dive festivities (eating, drinking, BSing)? Liveawhat? Going away on a trip where all you do is dive and sleep on a boat for up to a week? The list goes on and on.
I guess that this is why I have been single for so long. However, I think that I need what I need. I need to dive. Any female singles out there interested in a lifetime of this kind of fun? I am quite available.