I understand that from my side of the fence that love is complicated, fleeting and not altogether positive force in my life. This due largely to the fact that when I’ve been in a manic, hypo-manic state, I’ve fallen in love on the average of 4 times a day, more if I’m actually going out, meeting people and seeking out the experience. Of course, they are all my soul mate and we are “destined to be together” and such.
I remember one time years ago, I was out with my best friend (let’s call her Kat) and we were at a bar where her then-boyfriend’s band was playing. I had been drinking (that’s back when I was drinking, of course) and dancing with a guy, I’m not sure if I ever got his name, but I was certain that THIS WAS THE GUY. He was cute, funny and more than a little drunk. We were having the time of our lives, dancing and flirting and doing the whole ritualistic checking-you-out thing. We didn’t do a whole lot of talking, as the band was really loud, but that didn’t matter because HE WAS MY SOUL MATE and WE WERE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER FOREVER. Well, at around 2 a.m., it was last call, the band was playing their last song and it was time to go. I remember standing out in the street with Dude, kissing like it was the end of the world; like he was shipping off to war, never to be seen again. Kat had to literally pull me away from him and I was heartbroken. At least until the next morning, when I realized I had never gotten his name, had no idea if he was the Son of Sam or Jesus Christ himself. I did realize that I could no longer trust my brain when intoxicated and on the higher end of the mood scale. Not that this occasion marked the end of me falling deeply and hopeless in love…I should be so lucky.
But I started thinking the other day about the other side of dating me. The poor guy who gets reeled in by this extraordinary woman, full of energy, extremely affectionate, just crackling with electricity and charisma. Then, a couple weeks later, meet her again, only to find that she’s completely different; quiet, shy, withdrawn and subdued. I can only imagine their thoughts “Ok – what have you done with the fun girl?” Or even worse, to meet again and find that she’s gone to even higher heights and is so spun that she cannot make coherent sentences, can’t sit still and is starting to show a little bit of temper. What in the wide, wide world of sports is going on here??? Then, if I dare to come clean and ‘fess up that I have bipolar disorder, I am usually met with the all-time most ignorant statement, “So, you’re crazy?” Yes, I am crazy; crazy to think that I could educate someone who has already decided that any mental illness equals crazy. Crazy is one of the most overused words in the English language. So, I decided that if I was going to continue to date, I would cut to the chase and just let them know right up front and let the chips fall where they may. Fall they did. One right after another. Kat wasn’t really thrilled with the idea and felt that I wasn’t giving them a chance to get to know me, but I felt that once they got to know me, even if they were deeply infatuated with me, the truth was like a cold shower on a hormonal teenage boy. End game. Run, Forrest, Run!!! You get the idea.
So, until the Universe sends me an intelligent man who is not afraid, ignorant or just shallow, I will continue to be single, happily so. If I can’t stand my own company, how can I expect someone else to do so? I am not against marriage or true love or soul mates, but I do know that love is complicated, even without the flavor of bipolar disorder.
What are your thoughts or experiences?