Dating for black sheep

Dating is brutal and it makes me feel old and cynical. The inner voice that gets all sarcastic and says “Sure, that won’t end badly.” Uh huh. I’m not friends with many of the dudes I’ve dated. I’ve picked some really bad ones, but still, that’s a bad sign. I have a difficult time even being friends with men. They scare the shit out of me, with rare exceptions. And the ones that don’t scare me- I scare them. That’s sometimes for the best. My favorite line to send them running? “Don’t make me bring out the crazy!.” Works every time. There’s so many oblivious idiots out there, I just don’t have time for any of that, and if there’s one way to drive people away, it’s mental illness in any form. Let’s list the labels again, even the ones I disagree with: Bipolar (supposedly type I when I was younger, arguably type II now), chronic major depression, PTSD/concentration camp syndrome, panic/anxiety disorder, ADD, ADHD, SAD (seasonal affective disorder).

There’s so much ignorance out there, and I really only want one intelligent, sophisticated, tolerant dude who is good with his hands. Especially since my hair is growing back out and it would make perfect reins. 😉

Love to all

Que Sera Sera- Pink Martini
Black Sheep- Gin Wigmore
Dancing On My Own- Robyn
Hold On Loosely- 38 Special
Destination Unknown- Marietta

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