In All Singularity

How long have I been single? About three months now, I think. I have come to the realisation that it's not about how long one has been single, it is about what that person thinks about when he/she is single. I thought that since my last blog was "dedicated" so much to my love life, or the loss of my love life, I decided that I should probably write a blog dedicated to the fact that I probably do not need a love life (I place emphasis on probably).

A lot of people need this assurance, and now I'm giving it to you:

It's perfectly okay to be single.

Of course, you don't get the perks you get when you are in a relationship. Although, when I crack my head right now to think about it, in the last months or years of the relationship(s), came down to very few anyway. Like, having someone to cook for you once in a while. Or the perk of being able to demand for sex when you want it. But remembering the nights I have come home drunk and horny and wanted sex and was rejected because the other party was too sleepy/tired, I suppose we're better off alone.

That's not to say dating or relationships are bad. They are good because they help you see who the other person is, and in that process, you learn so much more about yourself. You learn what you like about someone, and what you don't. You learn what tickles your fancy, and what doesn't. You learn that some guys have smelly feet, and that some kiss horribly.

That doesn't discount the great relationship(s) I've had in my life, although in all honesty, that probably goes down to only one. Only one relationship ended well. It wasn't the most wholesome relationship; there was a lot of giving on my end, but when it ended, at least I didn't feel like running the other person down with a Hummer.

But this is entirely my fault. I gravitate towards bad-ass men.

Dating has never been an easy game for me. I recall innocent little dates, where holding hands felt like you were stealing kisses in the stairway. I still like those moments, when you feel a certain way for someone, and when that person walks by your heart just flutters and you feel this sinking feeling in your stomach. And you blush.

But I'm digressing.

I'm not so sure how I feel about dating. And in all honesty, adding bipolar disorder to the equation makes the whole thing even more uncertain. I've had this disorder all my life, so I suppose that from the start, every guy I've dated has seen this side (or these sides) of me, but they were never well-informed of what it was. I recall a guy who, upon seeing me cry one minute and laugh the next, said that I was too unpredictable, on the "borderline of crazy".

I have a serious confession to make: I get turned on when men call me "crazy", in a good way, of course. But that's just like me admitting to the fact that I get crazily turned on when men kiss me on my ears and neck. Or stomach. I suppose the word "crazy" is not always meant to be associated with the image of a mental institution. Instead, some people see images of a carefree persona with painted colours of the rainbow.

Heh. Crazy.

I once dated a guy who said I was his technicolour TV to his usual black and white life. Needless to say, I dated him for three years.

So I'm a sucker for men who think I'm a unique specimen. For men who want me because they seem to think I'm a certain way. For men who see the zany side of me.

But sadly, guys, I also have this other side of me. So dating with bipolar disorder has never been the easiest of things to do. I've fallen into this pattern, and I've come to recognise it over the years: men tend to fall for me when I'm manic, because I'm all hyper and crazy, and I can out-talk you, outsmart you, outrun you, out-kiss you. And then they run away at the first sign of a downswing. Some try to stay around. They dismiss it as a sign of a normal womanly mood swing - like PMS or something. And then they realise that that wasn't the case; that they had something more in their hands, and they run. And for once, they couldn't be outrun anymore. They couldn't be out-talked, or outsmarted. They couldn't be outrun. Because when I'm on a downswing, I sometimes can't even be bothered to get out of my bed to chase you.

And I normally wouldn't, anyway.

Patience is a very hard thing to have. Patience in finding the right person. In finding even one man who would give me the chance, to see if things could work out. I suppose this always goes down to the fact that he's just not that into me.

Letting go of feelings is always an easier said than done thing to do. But it is possible. And unlike other girls, I still like keeping men who do not see me that way, around. Because life isn't always about finding love. Some men are great as friends too, right?

It's not me who's doing the friendzoning. It seems like it's them. Although in all honesty, I've only been friendzoned once.

And it sucked big time.