After a week of being together, Michael informs me he hates the Holidays which are right around the corner and that he is Manic Bipolar. Double whammy. I almost drive off the road.

As I compose myself, I try to lighten the mood and say with a smile; “Oh so you are Eor and Tigger from Winnie the Pooh?”

“Yeah that sums me up perfectly, that’s a perfect analogy.” He says as we both laugh.

My thoughts are far different then what I speak. Ove! Why do I fall for the Van Gogh’s, the troubled souls? Is it because they make life interesting? Is it my past that draws me to these men? My dad who I loved dearly was a womanizer and my mom was mentally ill. Is history repeating itself? Will I always find comfort in men who are incapable of loving just one woman? Am I destined to follow in my parents footsteps?

I really like Michael. He’s kind and sweet, well, when he’s not self absorbed in his own bullshit. He loves my horses. He’s so gentle with them. We both have similar backgrounds. He adores his mom but has a love/hate relationship with his father. I loved my dad but had a bad relationship with my mom. We grew up in upper middle class. We love the outdoors and animals. We love sex, the more we get the more we want. We are both intense and emotional. We are both loners. He’s a Cancer and I’m a Scorpio, according to the Horoscope charts we have one of the best relationships.

We have our differences though: He’s a right wing conservative and I’m more middle of the road liberal. But we respect each other’s opinion even when we spar. He loves talk radio and I love music (even though his passion is the piano). He has gigantic mood swings, while I wear my heart on my sleeve (most of the time).

I love his spirit. I empathize with him. I am connected to his soul. I feel his pain, his passion, his intensity, but does he feel mine? Will we survive, unscathed?