almost lovers

I live in a marrying kind of town. I've heard jokes that you go to college to get your MRS degree. Cincinnati is definitely family-oriented. People even bring small children- and babies- to my bar.

I remember a very enlightening conversation I had with my good friend Rex. I like Rex because he's very honest, and he doesn't just do things because I tell him to, or it makes me happy. He's a cagey guy sometimes, but he will be honest with me when I ask for it.

I remember entertaining the idea that I might never get married, and I brought it up to Rex. I talk about this like it was an easy, lighthearted conversation- trust me, it wasn't. There was crying and sadness and anger. But when I expressed the concern that I might never find anyone who would be strong, smart, patient, etc enough to marry me, he agreed. Don't fault him this. Don't leave comments saying, no, Dale- there is someone out there for everyone! First of all, that's not true. Second of all, I'm not even done with the post. Thirdly, it's not necessarily anything to feel bad about. I'm not going to pity myself because I tend to be thought of as "more trouble than I'm worth."

I'm a pretty complex person- it goes with the territory of being bipolar. And people don't want complexity. Simple is nice and easy and free of concern. I'm never going to be simple, or easy, or free of concern (I am kinda nice). Finding someone who is willing to deal with that- those men are definitely not a dime a dozen.

But here's where I say something original- I was thinking the other night. I got home late, and I was in bed, trying to fall asleep, but my brain wasn't ready. A thought occurred to me, and I considered getting up right away and writing this blog... but I decided I would remember and just went to sleep. Miraculously, I remembered the next day, and then today. So here I am... wow, that was just gibberish. But it gives you some context- this thought is not fresh, but it's definitely reflected upon.

Ok, now- I promise... the original thought. It occurred to me that it's not really men not accepting me as I am. It's not that there aren't any men who would/could fall in love with me (in fact there has been a crazy few- it's easy to fall in love with me, and out). I realized- I kind of don't want to expose people to the reality of my illness. No one REALLY knows how bad it is. Mostly because there's no way to explain it. And it's not the worst case of bipolar ever, but it's definitely worse than people think. And I see how hard it is on my parents to love me so much and see me in so much pain. It's too late for them; they are stuck with me. But a husband? I don't think I could submit someone I truly loved to the inner workings of my mind- because it's not a pretty place. When I was flying into a minor rage over this damn computer, I thought- how could I submit someone, anyone to that? How could I make them witness that and feel for me and empathize and try to understand- something they will never acheive? It seems to me that I might truly be more trouble than I am worth. Hell, sometimes I'm more trouble to myself than I think I am worth. And to cause the pain that comes with mental illness- and bring someone else into that world- it just doesn't seem like a very nice thing to do. Kind of like surprising a person afraid of clowns with a trip to the circus.

So honestly- don't cry for me, Argentina. Really, it is, until now, a subconscious decision to hold people at arm's length. Like a cop putting out the yellow tape to keep bystanders from seeing the carnage. It's just for your own good.