Should I Marry My Insane Mother? by michaelcahill
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What I look for in a mate. I suppose the first thing to examine is the complete idiocy of the question itself. It sounds so sensible doesn't it? It's almost as though reasonable adults are going to sit down and have a lovely in depth exploration of themselves and come to a determination that will steady the course of their lives. Ah yes, once I determine the base needs I require from a mate I am on my way to domestic bliss. I've found what I look for in a mate many, many times in my life. Each time caused me to redefine the answer to the question … sometimes radically. As a young adolescent lad, my ideal was my mom. I suspect that to be the norm for young adolescent lads having no other comparisons at that stage of their development. When the lack of any desires other than hunger and fun are factored in, the choice makes good sense. This choice, at least in my case, would prove to be an amusing irony throughout my life. My mom was a severely mentally ill woman and extremely emotionally dependent. However, she did love me and was without guile or agenda. She was honest, loving and insane, not as poor a combination as you might surmise. This is something to keep in mind as the rest of my story unfolds, for your amusement if nothing else. I can't say as though I had a preference in grammar school for any particular attributes in my potential mates. They were all pretty, popular and interesting to me. I recall being the only young man in the third grade with a walking-to-school-holding-hands girlfriend. The other boys considered girls to be icky and undesirable. That error in judgment never crossed my mind. Along about the sixth grade a young lady named Rose began to develop more advanced female traits and something I could add to my list burst forth. Something else came along with those and then there was the other thing, something I had an interest in, but found mysterious and somewhat frightening as well. But, then, I've always been the first one to enter the haunted house and I've always had the nerve to spend the night. Rose became my girlfriend in the sixth grade. I didn't know why I was the lucky one. I know now that I would always be the lucky one. I still don't know why. I enjoyed Rose who had a fun outgoing personality, kissed well and found me to be quite to her liking for some reason. I had no idea what to do with her other assets, but I enjoyed being around them and having limited access of sorts to them. These assets made my list and remain on it to this day although I have no particular standards as to shape, size or flexibility. Having them and affording me access to them is the key to my interest. By the time I arrived in high school, my list became more sophisticated. I did have an ideal woman in mind. In practice, it would appear to be all-inclusive. In my mind though my ideal woman was about five foot two (I'm on the short side), curvy … okay, very curvy, highly intelligent, extremely talented and artistic and smitten with me to the point where there wasn't a single person on Earth in her mind to compare to me. PLUS … a physical attraction between us beyond sanity. Several of these showed me something was amiss with my list. As it turned out, and would always turn out, I was amiss. The me they were smitten with wasn't me. For various reasons that would be in another essay, I'm seldom myself. I'm usually a persona shielding my true self from harm. My personas are not disingenuous, but they do hide any flaws or insecurities I have. Thus, I am protected from the disappointment a prospective mate might feel in discovering them. Pause for announcement of major mental health award … here. So, I'd end up in these seemingly storybook relationships with beautiful talented women and slowly but surely I'd become unhappy. Why? Because they really didn't know me. They were in love with something I created to fool them into loving me. Was that true? Probably not, but it felt true to me. I happened to meet something close to my ideal mate in high school although I didn't know it at the time. She had all of the requirements on my list plus one other one that should have been on there. She paid no attention to any of my personas. She recognized them as personas and passed them by. She introduced herself directly to my real terrified little self and adored me. We had an amazing year together. We shared a love for the ages that would never and didn't ever die. What happened? Oh, I forgot to mention, I'm an idiot. My first year of college found me sitting behind this older woman, gorgeous and intelligent etc., who had the audacity to tell me she didn't associate with children. I may not have mentioned my ego yet either. I married her. Ha! Don't associate with children huh? What's up now, lady? A terrible ten-year marriage to a very frigid lesbian gal was my reward for my stupidity. Well-earned I must say. I mention lesbian just to point out how far off my instincts are. Actually, I've had several lesbian girlfriends. They're my favorite. What they see in me, as always, I'm not sure. That's also another essay. It seems, based on my successful marriage, I needed to add one more thing to my list. I need someone who NEEDS me. I'm a rescuer it seems. I rescue things, animals, plants and people. I don't find it a wise thing to do. I don't even look inside myself and find any great desire to do so. But, I seem compelled by some force to do just that. Now, one thing all of my spouses and girlfriends have had in common is lovely eyes along with physical beauty. However, if you look into those pretty eyes, you'll see just a touch of insanity. In some cases more than a touch. They all have it to one degree or another. Yep, I always end up with mom. I was separated from my wife a few years back. I looked up my high school sweetheart. She was married, but I lied to myself and said, "Thirty-five years have passed. It will be fine. We'll have a cup of coffee and a couple laughs". I knew better. Somewhere deep inside of myself I knew what would happen and that is why I never called her in all of those years. Yes, I did know where she lived the whole time. Thirty-five years was not enough time to even slightly dim the flame between us. We had to agree to only send e-mails to each other. It would be impossible for us to be in the same room together. I wasn't about to let her leave her very nice husband and three kids for me. Maybe in another thirty years… I also met a young lesbian gal during that time. She was twenty something years younger than me. I hadn't written a word or played a musical note for fifteen years when I met her. She was a love at first sight encounter. I have those. All my relationships have been those. She saved my life. I never would have written a word for the rest of my life had I not met her. Yeah, I ended up with her too much to the chagrin of all the young men and women who were dying to be hers. Well, I have no idea why, as I've been saying. But by then, I knew it would work out that way. She's still my best friend. That brings me to now. I'm back with my wife who solved the issue that separated us. (yet, another essay) So, what do I look for in an ideal mate? I don't really know. Do I have an ideal mate now? Maybe I do. I must say though, I don't amount to anything by the usual standards of success. My high school sweetheart would type up and edit everything I've ever written and mail it off. She would have all of my music on CD's and in the mail to record companies. Would that be good for me? I think so. My young lesbian friend, besides keeping me in astonishing physical shape, would have me writing around the clock and collaborating on amazing stories and film projects. Would that be good for me? It does sound good. I'm aware of and think about other options. My mind and heart are not beyond intrigue or interest. Is sense always a requirement? Should I not try selfish at some point? Well, just thoughts. Thoughts are not unwelcome to me. Sometimes they are all that keep me warm. Currently, I take care of a bunch of mentally ill people who'd be a whole lot worse off without me. I'm quite tolerant and patient by nature. I'm not easily riled. I learned that being raised by a schizophrenic mother. My wife needs a very patient tolerant husband. Is this where I belong? It does seem to be the case. Is it the best thing for me? I don't know. What could I do about it if it wasn't? What do I look for in a mate? You tell me, what should I look for?
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