I was in a small social group Friday night and noticed a beautiful woman who I didn’t know. I listened to her and found her intelligent and interesting. I was intrigued enough to ask a friend who she was.
“Oh, that’s [Woman’s Name],” my friend said. “She’s beautiful and brilliant, but she’s also mentally unstable. She’s definitely your kind of woman.”
I laughed, but I couldn’t argue with that. Brilliant, beautiful and mentally unstable seem to be my kryptonite in women.
It’s funny to joke about, but there’s some truth to it. I’ve somehow been in multiple romantic relationships over the last 20 years that could be considered deeply dysfunctional in one way or another. That didn’t mean they weren’t wonderful women. It also doesn’t mean I regret loving them.
Can I conclude from this that “women are crazy”? That’s what a lot of people see when they find themselves in such situations, but that misses the brutal truth. Yes, I’ve gone through a line of women who I believe need some psychological help.
But I’m the one who’s been the common denominator in all the relationships.
I was attracted to whatever might be crazy in them. Their crazy was attracted to something about my crazy. Even if we didn’t realize it at the time, we were attracted to people who were at our own level of psychological and emotional health. They had issues. I had issues. We needed one another because we could understand each other, even if we weren’t conscious of it at the time.
Whatever I’ve consistently attracted into my life doesn’t say anything about women in general. It says something about me. And whatever you’ve consistently attracted into your life says something about you, too.

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