380 Years

I use my pheromone charms to snag a Rhodes-scholar baseball pitcher who signs $37 million contracts and makes us filthy rich (need to have a stake for the next umpteen years)and popular (I can be the fun-party-girl I never quite was) and world-travelers (see all the beautiful places). Unfortunately, he'd age but I wouldn't so, at some point, I'd have to pretend to be his companion care-giver instead of his partner.

Then, because remaining young as everyone else ages would throw up all kinds of red flags, I'd need to meet someone... say, a CIA man... who could help me create a new identity and I'd probably have to hang out with him for a suitably long time so as not to just be using him -- until that became uncomfortable once again.

I'd like to become a British archaeology student, studying Celtic rock carvings, getting in to see the actual Lascaux. After that lifetime and career of traveling the world looking at rock art, I'd hope to become... oh... an Australian writer of novels or research articles and/or a university professor... something reclusive and quiet but in touch with the world.

By this time, I'm about 350 years old and I'm sure that the world's governments would be micro-chipping and fingerprinting everyone by that time; thus, it would be much harder, if not impossible, to change identities.

But I'm stuck here anyway. What do I want to do next? Dance? Maybe... but that only accounts for 30 more years or so and I've used up all the careers I've ever wished I had. I've got 700 more years!!!

You see the dilemma. Career suggestions welcome.