relationships

Tinder: Always a Twist

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For many single adults out there today, there’s an app called Tinder. The “straight” version of Grinder, Tinder is an application where you simply swipe left or right on someone’s photo. It’s a simple little game you might say and it’s highly addictive. Only a few weeks ago did I write about throwing in the towel on dating. I guess that’s the beauty of bipolar. Your emotions escalate and drop and you make decisions based on your moods. And when your moods go up again, well they may, in fact, change.

Tinder dating app photo

I have met some great people through this app in the last year and a half of being single. The sweatshirt I am wearing at this moment actually was created by a buddy of mine who I met on a date over a year ago. The date went nowhere and we went on another date maybe six months later, but we have remained business colleagues and friends. His business makes money off of me now.

My first Tinder experience was interesting. We met, had great chemistry, a few dates later had sex, and I began to take an interest in him. Until I found out that a girlfriend I knew for a very long time had a date planned with him. He told me I was being childish and unflattering when I told him my thoughts. She still went on the date and slept with him. He left her like trash. Girls suck. Guys are dogs. I learned that quickly.

girls suck

Then there has only been one real dating experience through Tinder I should say that lasted for a few weeks and that was about one year ago. Let’s name him Bob. I swiped right on Bob and we matched. There was instant chemistry over the phone calls we had and he was from my area (Philadelphia/South Jersey). We had a mutual friend and she even vouched for him. Bob came to meet me after one of my shows and instantly grew a crush on me, or so he says. The first night we hung out, we slept together. Definitely not a good thing on either of our parts, but we are both adults. The casual dating began to turn into something more. It had only been about six months or so since I split with my ex-boyfriend Steve. My heart wasn’t quite ready, but my vagina definitely was. We met each others’ best friends, I hung with him on his birthday, and he even spent the night at my house (which usually doesn’t happen with guys I am not interested in). Things were going great until I made a dinner reservation for him at a restaurant he has always wanted to go to but had never been. He told me I was too nice and he wasn’t ready for a relationship. He became cold towards me. To this day, I’m pretty sure he met another girl on Tinder and was more into her, but that I will never know. Months go by and he dials me up about a month or so ago. I go to his place, we hook up, and something didn’t feel right. The next day I go onto his Instagram page and he has a serious girlfriend. And it looks as though they met right around the time I originally met him. Wow, my instincts were right. Thank you universe for protecting me. He would have been cheating on me if I was his girlfriend now. I’ll be happy if I never speak to Bob or see him ever again.

bad date

Two weeks ago I decided to dust off my Tinder app and do some swipes. I have been on dates here and there, but nothing that has truly sparked my interest. I have met a really great guy, but the monologuing type. I am not quite sure if he is into me or if he is into himself more. Another guy I refuse to meet up with because well, the first few messages we had between each other he sent me almost a full body nude. The third guy, well it has been just fantastic. But I refuse to count my chickens before they hatch. So I won’t say much about him. However, I will say a little about the evening I met him.

I’m working, having a busy day as usual and I meet up with an old friend. When I say old friend, he’s someone who knows my SHIT. We spent some time in the loony bin together back in late 2012 and I can appreciate his craziness. There are two people I have kept in contact with from mental institutions (and I’ve been in quite a few over the years). And he is one of them. We caught up since we hadn’t seen each other in a while. He said he lost my pilates mat somehow between his move and owed me some drinks. I ate a few appetizers since it’s Sober February. I felt bad leaving him to go on a date with someone he actually knew (the third Tinder date is a buddy of his), but it felt so good to be myself with someone. For a couple of hours we talked, laughed, and busted each others’ balls with sarcasm. He encouraged me to go on my dreaded date since he knew the guy was good peoples. So I did.

I get into my car, drive to my neighborhood and walk into my date. Right away, I think of what my friend just told me (he couldn’t see us together) and he was right. But I’m not trying to judge a book by its cover so I continue to walk over to the man smiling at me with a ridiculously hipster-looking mustache. Two hours into the conversation and neither of us have barely touched our drinks, I am smitten. This was the best conversation I have had with someone in years. He gets me. The fact that he did Peace Corps (I work for an adult education nonprofit catering to low-income immigrants), loves music and is knowledgeable about it (I’m a musician), hippie (i’m a fire spinner, nuff said), has been through some shit (no comment necessary), the list goes on and on.. We were so open and honest with each other, I even admitted my favorite movie to him–Howard the Duck. Oddly enough, he knew it and loved it the same. Our date was longer than six hours and ended with a wonderful kiss (even though I had no idea of what to do about his mustache) and some amazing hugs.

I’ll keep you up-to-date with how it all turns out. But to be honest, I’m not expecting anything from it. What I do know, is he is one of those people that if I do mention my disease to, wouldn’t be too bothered by it. And that feels nice.

Triggers

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I wish I had an easy button for life. I’m not really quite sure what it would fix or do in a situation such as mine, but the thought of clearing away all problems and having one solution enlightens me. If only I could cleanse the myriad of racing thoughts I had each day and do the tai chi way of moderation and self discipline so eloquently 24/7, maybe just maybe I’d have a chance of ultimate stability. God help me. God help us all.

It’s little things that will set me off. I will be in my zen zone and someone will blatantly piss me off. It’s like some evil being purposely placed them in my path to completely fuck with me. And that unnecessary evil sits back and laughs as I lose my mind. But it’s not always that I will be set off the wrong way. You see, as a person with bipolar, I can go off in any direction. That’s right. Manic (up), Depressed (down), Mixed (a mixture of both), Hypomanic (a little up, but not too up), and Slightly Depressed. Let me explain a trigger.

You walk into your home, place your keys on the counter, and flick on the light switch. Yup. That’s what happens in my body when a trigger happens. Some little bastard lemming turns on the switch. He’s always there. Just waiting. Hoping that he gets a sign from the crazy gods to turn me on. And he does a great job of it. But my mind is learning to put him away. Since he’s always there, he beats me to it most of the time. Unfortunately.

For the average Joe, getting up each day to brush their teeth, take a shower, cook, do laundry, pay bills, etc., etc., those are normal  “have-to-do’s-whether-you-like-them-or-not”. For someone who suffers from bipolar, schizophrenia, paranoia, clinical depression, SADD, or any other mental illness. These are tough. These are as difficult as a Harvard math problem given to a 2-year old is still teething. Then, if not done in moderation, for someone like myself, one of the mood swings is possible to occur.

Let’s take this for example. Here are two triggers for my mania. Traveling from east to west coast and exercise. Everyone knows that exercise is healthy. That exercise is wonderful. But is there a such thing as too much exercise? Well, of course. I learned that I cannot work out more than 3 times a week. And in those periods, I should not work out for mo than 1 hour. My personality is an addictive one, but I have to push myself to not do so. Rigorous exercise can allow someone to become fatigued or sweat or even just feel exhausted. But not me! Oh no, rigorous exercise causes me to have MORE energy. Same with traveling from the east coast to the west coast. The time difference sparks up a fire in my ass and I become as manic as I have ever been. Frivolous spending, barely sleeping three to four hours a night, and a sex drive that needs to be tamed.

Triggers for depression. A rainy day. Menstruation. Or even something as trivial as, “Tara, your hair isn’t looking too good today.” I never know exactly when these triggers will hit. But they do. And when they happen, they’re not the prettiest.

Immediately after the light switch is turned on I become either angry or fast talking. These are the mood swings that people probably think can happen in anyone and that those who have mood swings (anyone, with or without a mental illness) has bipolar. Not true. These mood swings last longer. Depression can last for a few weeks for me. And mania has lasted even up to one year for me. That’s a lot of out of control.

I have learned that I need to fight these urges to turn constantly. And this my friends is why bipolar can take a toll on relationships and destroy people’s lives. Many never learn how to take control of these mood swings. Sometimes it’s almost as if I’m being chauffeured around with no say. When you think about it, it’s really sad. Most bipolars are incredibly talented and creative, but when there is no real stability – many lives can end in death.

Just yesterday I was having a great day and then I met up with a very handsome guy. We were having a great time, sitting around, relaxing and he grabbed me to kiss me. It was a fantastic kiss and I held back. I said to myself, “Tara, don’t lose control. It’s okay. It’s good. He doesn’t need to know that you’re fighting every single hormone and feeling in your body. Your heart doesn’t need to start racing. Stop thinking. Just be okay. Don’t like it. Don’t like it. Oh, but his lips taste so good. Resist. Resist the urge. Oh, but his hair is so smooth. Nope, you don’t like it.” And then his teeth bit playfully into my bottom lip and his tongue caressed my ear and I was done. Next thing you know I was almost fully undressed and I realized…

NO! I HAVE TO STOP DAMNIT. I cannot keep going. I politely said to him, “I refuse to be a tease. I just have rules. And we already broke them. I don’t kiss the first time.” He wanted to continue going, but he also understood. The chemistry was so amazing that the bad angel on my shoulder kept pestering me to continue. What should I care? But I realized if I did go any further, I would have a high that was uncontrollable and then I would just regret and pity myself the next morning.

It’s hard enough to control yourself with everyday emotions as a stable human being. But doing so with bipolar emotions is fucking hard. On top of everything else in my life. I counted 6 side jobs that I do yesterday during the Super Bowl. That means I am a single mother with a full-time job, a music career I am pursuing, and six side jobs. My life is complicated enough that I don’t need to complicate it any further. Life is simple; my mind complicates it.

Screw these triggers. The weather is shitty enough today and my depression is beginning to lurk. I am going to take a deep breath and hope I’ll be okay.

On Dating: Throwing in the Towel

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Naturally, I push men away.

People always inquire what the reason for having this immature behavior? Most simple answer–I’m protecting myself. From what, you might ask? From having my son being heart-broken. I sit here late on a Monday night, after performing in five straight shows at the casino today, exhausted. And all I can do is be hard on myself. Now, as I’ve learned, I will come to my blog to tell it exactly how it is..

I decided recently that I am finished. Finito. Terminada. Throwing in the towel like Apollo Creed should have done. When I was dating, I was basically setting myself up for failure and constant disappointments. Being the optimist that I am, I thought maybe I would actually meet a guy (a man) who could handle that I have a child. After countless failed attempts at dating, I am more of a cynical realist. I don’t believe in soulmates. Just great chemistry you can have with someone and if you share enough intimate moments before you just get to know each other well, you may fall in love because your timing is right. Someone who was ready for you and you for them.

Just the other night, it happened. I was out on a Saturday night when I bumped into a familiar face who I never met in person, rather on some online dating app. We exchanged a few smiles and I couldn’t stop. The entire night I kept reminding myself that this wasn’t real. He wasn’t interested in me. But his body language and his pearly whites kept revealing themselves onto me. Deep down inside where that hope used to lie, it started to bud again. We had a few exchanges where our lips spoke to each other’s lips. Nothing heated. As the evening grew to a close, we texted until we fell asleep, but my gut tells me I’ll never hear from him again. Nights such as these are few and far between, but in the end I never hear from them ever again.

I began racking my brain a few months ago about this. Is there something wrong with me? Why can’t I be more average? Maybe it’s my religion. Or my hair.. my mom was right–guys don’t like my short hair. Possibly it’s because my job isn’t as reputable as most in the DC area. There’s a chance they think my music sucks. Countless superficial surface reasons, until one day my guitarist said, “I could never date a woman with a child. I mean, that’s a really big deal.”

I went home that night and cried. He was right. How did I never see that as the reason? Most likely because my son is my life and the reason I am who I am. The main motivation in my life and my spirit. The solution to all of my life’s problems. He is my foundation. But the average Joe isn’t going to see that. He won’t know that. He has no clue what I’ve been through. He just sees a pretty girl for the night to hang with who has a child. No future there.

Struggling with this often, I have now given up on dating. The men I’m not interested in love me and ask me to marry them. The men I have great chemistry with aren’t quite mature enough to handle my having a son.

I am not necessarily assuming most of this as it may seem. When my ex-boyfriend left me he told me that I wasn’t part of his plan. Dating a woman with a child wasn’t what he was ready for. He said it was all too real. He wanted to be settled down by age 32. I wasn’t that person. No matter how much truth there is to that statement and the hell he was saving me in our non-existent future. It fucking hurt. Bad.

So I wrote this song.