The only way I'd put up with that for an instant is if he still worked hard to have the type of life he wanted, he was interesting and passionate and talented at something, and it didn't feel like he was mooching off of me. Like, say, a blacksmith who traveled around the country selling his exquisitely forged swords at Renaissance fairs. He would be super fun and make my coffee in the morning and be emotionally supportive when my job sucked; I'd follow him around working remotely. We might never be homeowners, he might never have a retirement fund, but we would have an adventurous, wild life. Or he would live and work on a farm that he inherited. He would earn just enough to pay for the upkeep of the farm, but he would bust his ass working hard for us. Every night, I'd have pint of farmhouse ale he brewed and a dinner that he grew/raised/slaughtered/cooked. He could make furniture, tend to sick baby animals, carry me across a stream, and chop down a tree. All I'd have to do is get us health insurance and keep the lights on. But someone who just wants to work at a gas station forever, who is both a giant fucking bore AND who can't provide any stability? Those dudes can take a flying leap.