All the good men are gay, taken or fictional characters

I'm writing because I don't think anyone would read this, and I needed a form of release. It's strange, because in a way, I want people to know (I AM tired of hiding what I have), and in another way, I am slightly ashamed. Not in a hang-down-your-head kind of shame, but in a slight, pulling-my-skirt-below-my-knee kind of shame. A certain kind of shyness, perhaps.

I don't think I need to be ashamed, especially because I did choose to come out with it. It was my decision, and no one else's. But here's the thing. Some people may now know that I have bipolar disorder, but they don't know the implications of me having this illness.

This is not a project paper, so why bother going into details? Not now, and besides, there are plenty of those to be found online. Google "bipolar disorder" and you get various answers. Many answers.

One thing, however, that people don't talk about much, because it's such a taboo, because it's such a hush-hush situation, is that this disorder also causes one thing - hypersexuality. What this means, in simple words, is that we're hornier creatures than usual people. Pardon my crude language, but I couldn't think of a better way to put that forward. It apparently affects up to 80% of people with this disorder.

And let me tell you where the problem comes in (not intended to be punny, NO):

When you're single, and no available man seems to be in your horizon.

There. Because I find it funny, that in my case, my medications messed up my unusually high drive. I suddenly lost interest altogether, and couldn't be bothered. But when I did feel like it, it was as if I could never be satisfied. Rarely, at least. But when I felt like it, it felt like I could keep on going. Or at least I wanted to.

But you know that feeling when you've just gotten single recently? Well, besides the fact that the feeling obviously sucks. Besides the fact that you've gotten your heart broken AGAIN (or, in this case, again and again). There is so much pain, but that's besides the point. As you can see, racing thoughts and the inability to focus are also problems associated with bipolar disorder. So back to what I was saying. So, when one recently becomes single again, and has no means to obtain intimacy... anyway, no, that's besides the point too.

What I AM trying to say is that for some reason that is personal to me, yet unfathomable to myself, I equate sex with intimacy with trust with... love. Or feelings, to put simply. I need to have feelings for someone to be truly intimate with that person. Uh, kissing people don't count. What I mean is true intimacy. And I have been described from being extremely shy to wild and free when it comes to giving and making love. I have been overwhelmed with emotions before; I have cried.

So yes, this post is actually an emotional post. I am feeling lonely, and the lack of intimacy or human touch is killing me. And it doesn't help that being hypomanic (on and off) revs my sex drive.

But what I truly miss is someone stroking my hair and holding me tight.

Why must every awesome man out there be gay, taken, fictional characters, or not interested in me? OR they might be, but I don't know? I'm not? Or maybe, I don't know. There's no chemistry? Or they just don't even show interest.

Or I'm too blind. Either I think someone likes me when they don't (yes, I'm that stupid, this happened once). OR I think someone doesn't like me and they actually do!! And sometimes they don't even tell, like, for years. WHYYYY?

So I'm going to decide whether I'm going to settle for intimacy without the feelings, or stick with my feelings but if I do (stick with my feelings, that is), I'm pretty much stuck. Because my heart, right now, is not by my side.

I am very open to someone stealing it away, though.

Somehow, someway, I am still a (hopeful) romantic.