I Love Dating the Mentally Ill

Soooo….I joined a dating website. Seriously, I did. Now I’m not going to tell you which one, cuz once I tell you about it you’re sooo going to want to go and join. But I don’t want you to. Because you’ll be all grabby and snatch up the good ones for yourselves. You’re greedy like that. And I’m selfish and immature like this.

Now this dating site is Not your old stupid ‘Match.com’ or ‘eHarmony’…no sirree-bob. This place is super special. You have to have certain QUALIFICATIONS to join. Yeah, ya get that? You gotta be QUALIFIED.

This is what is referred to as a Niche market, sweetie, and I’m Niching the hell outta it.

The QUALITY you must possess to be in this ‘market’ has nothing to do with how sex-alicious you are…or how strongly your Mensa flag flies. Nope. It doesn’t matter if you make 6 digits a year…or  if you’re a twin. No one cares about that shit…At. All.

Nope…the only thing that qualifies you to be in this group is that you have your very own section in the DSM 5. That’s right~! You gots ta be crazy to BELONG. The buggier, the better.

I like dating the mentally ill. Nothing is more fun than going on a manic joyride with a bipolar who has forgotten to take his Risperdal. Seriously, you can’t make this crap up. And if you get super lucky and meet a Dissociative? Girl, that’s some heavenly shit…just think, you could, at any moment be in bed with four or five different people…and NOT be a slut~! YeeHaw~!

And of course, if you like to play ‘hide & seek’…no one is better than a Schizophrenic. They are Super at disappearing…or just finding really awesome hiding places where not even the CIA satellites can find them. Never…I’m telling you…NEVER a dull moment with a Schizo.

Of course all of this helps if you’re Bipolar, like me. Then you get the inside scoop…the secret codes to how to date one of these most fantastical types.

Oh…one more fun thing about this site is that everyone…almost every single person is either an artist or a super geek. The much pondered connection between brilliance and insanity really struts its stuff here…And EVERY one is a walking med encyclopedia. WebMD has nothing on this site. Fuck Yeah~!

Now off I go to the Chat room…I never know what anyone is talking about, but I’m in city government, so along with being Bipolar, I’m kind skilled at making sense outta nonsense.

MY MASK:

 

…stepping up to the microphone…

I had the most remarkable dream last night.

It was 1988 and I was at a community gathering. We have lots of these, and I believe this one was celebrating a woman’s health. Everyone was in a long curricular line on a very large platform. It felt like we were in the Library and/or on stage at the Auditorium.

There were massive platers of food for everyone…and as a person stepped up to join the food line all they had to do was stand in front of a central microphone and sing one line to a song.

As this progressed, some would be shy about singing, and everyone would laugh gently and sing for them…or someone would get carried away and want to sing and sing and sing. Again, we all laughed and teased them away from the stage.

At some point I realized that I wasn’t actually there. That I was passing through time. I became ecstatic. Filled with intense joy that I was being given the opportunity to look back, really look back. Without muddled memories or wishes of things that might have been. I was able to see Eureka Springs exactly as it was on that day in 1988.

I started walking through town…down Spring Street. I saw all of the houses along the street that hadn’t been cared for in many years. And knew that in the years to come they would once again be bright and strong.

Then it occurred to me. This was my opportunity to see those beautiful buildings that we have lost from my dream time to now. I headed immediately in the direction of the old Landacre Hotel. I loved that place, and I took it for granted. Thinking it would always be there. The thought of being able to see it again was one of tremendous joy.

On my way to the Landacre I passed a friend, Jane. I looked at her and realized that she was here, at this time and place, and in my dream in 1988. I asked her what day it was. She said this day…the reality day. I laughed and told her no, she was not…she was in my dream. I then told her what she was wearing, a silk black peasant blouse with multi-colored ties and ribbons…and shorts. Her turn to laugh. She said that she was wearing a suit and a scarf. Seemed the joke was on both of us. Off we went, Jane to join the celebration and me to explore the way things once were.

There wasn’t much more to the dream after that. I knew the places I was going to spend this time saying hello to…and thanking for being a part of my life…The Landacre, the Red Brick Schoolhouse being foremost. And then all of the other buildings and springs…which weren’t destroyed. Only changed.