Love.

Zoe and I are an item.  I would have updated here much sooner alas my internet went down and I went away for work yet again, which at the beginning of a budding relationship is torture.  We obviously came through with grace and style all the stronger.  We are very smitten with one another.  She is a wonderful woman.  She is everything that the women of my past have not been.  She not only accepts me but embraces those parts of me which would otherwise be challenging.  I love her all the more for this.  She dances so utterly artfully and entrancingly with my demons.  She quells my moods and challenges me in just the right ways when I get difficult.  She is a blessing.

Zoe is giving me perspective on myself.  I have always described myself as average looking to reasonably attractive.  She is convinced that I am the most attractive man that she has ever met in person which is confirmed by several of her friends and of all things her daughter… Which makes me feel a little awkward.  I mean, aren’t teenage girls supposed to be attracted to hairless, skinny things like Justin Bieber?  I feel like an Armani model rather suddenly.  I would like to use this as an example of the stigma that mental disorders get.  As a caucasian male in his mid thirties, tallish and well made, attractive and intelligent, people give you utter hell when you claim to have or express your problems.  ‘You aren’t a minority, how dare you?!’  ‘You can’t know what it means to suffer, what problem could you possibly have?!’  People get downright belligerent when someone like me has an invisible problem.  If I walked with a limp that would be understandable.  Were I physically deformed in some way there would be empathy and understanding.  So long as I look, speak and behave as I do I just piss people off by being anything less than godlike.  This is where mental health needs to focus.  It looks like anyone.  Robin Williams killed himself.

 

The above aside I am sliding down the slippery slopes of love.  I have decided to no longer chase anything that does not in turn chase me.  If people invest no time in me, that is exactly how much time I will invest in them.  I feel so much better for it.  I have spent next to no time on social media.  There is no room for rubbish people in my mind when I have a goddess occupying most of it.  I was going to make a Facebook post to the effect of:  I once had a woman in my life whom I loved so I shared her with the world, now I have a woman who is my world and I don’t much feel the need to share our life.  But as the line indicates, I didn’t feel much of a need to bother.

The sex is great.  I am a former man-slut (I hate that the word slut has an automatic feminine association, so I am going to use it ambiguously from here going forward) so I have had some practice satisfying women sexually.  Zoe just happens to be really easy to satisfy so it is like a Harlem Globetrotters game.  I feel like the fix is in every time.  My pristiq makes having an orgasm difficult but that doesn’t even bother me at all.  It still happens eventually, the joy for me is in the getting there and let me tell you, if I can make a car analogy about this woman’s body: you get all of the luxury features of a Cadillac in the streamlined little package of a Porsche.  There is no part of her that I do not find alluring.  So much so that I have entirely stopped consuming porn.  This is very big.  I am a porn fanatic and addict.  I will forever be a proponent for pornography, I think it is one of the purest forms of entertainment.  However, since Zoe I have not needed it at all.  She has replaced porn in my mind.  That is the very definition of salacious and lascivious.  This woman was truly made for me.

I see a very bright future in this.  My fear however is that I may end up putting too much of my happiness eggs into a single basket which for bipolars can be kind of dangerous.  That’s a bridge I can incinerate when I feel the need to, crossed or not.

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