Love & The 'Black Dog'

A short time ago, I rejoined a well-known dating app. You know the one; it rhymes with 'hinder.'

Having been on it in the past, I've learnt some tricks.

I know it's hard for people to write about themselves, but there's always certain things to look out for in their biography:

If someone says, "I don't like drama," you can be assured that their life is full of it.

Likewise, if you see they want "simple and uncomplicated," they're probably not.

"I tell it like it is," is short-hand for, "I open my mouth before I engage my brain, and have no sensitivity for anyone's feelings."

"My children come first" has always puzzled me. After all, isn't that a given? That's like a bear telling you they're furry, and don't play well with others - it doesn't need to be said.

As for the adjectives they used to describe themselves? I once dated someone who'd put "loyalty" as one of their defining characteristics. I'm not sure what dictionary they'd been using, but it wasn't one I'd ever come across. They had about as much loyalty as a particularly fickle cat.

It's a minefield.

But finally, you stumble across a profile you like and swipe right. However, you're still miles from home: You may swipe right plenty of times, but someone else doing the same on your profile is a long shot.

And, even when they do, the conversation either dries up within moments or your 'match' doesn't reply or just disappears.

But, even when those things don't happen, and you do begin talking, you sometimes can't escape the feeling that the person you're speaking to isn't being entirely honest. For example, either the mountains of Wales are crammed full of energetic singletons every weekend, or people are fibbing a bit about how they spend their spare time.

I'm okay with knowing that every Saturday and Sunday you snuggle on the sofa in front of Netflix, and only move to get more snacks or take a comfort break. To be honest, that's a damn sight more attractive to me than someone who's traipsing up and down big hills all the time. I like the outdoors, and it does wonders for my mental health. But, honestly? I'd take 'Better Call Saul' every time.

So, making a genuine connection is hard.

But...

I did.

They were funny, intelligent, and - as long as the photos on their profile were actually of them - exceptionally attractive. They also didn't claim to be mountaineering every weekend which endeared them to me a lot.

However...

There was an elephant in the room: My mental health.

Given that I'm pretty public about the topic, you wouldn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to find out I suffer from depression (Inspector Clouseau would probably be able to find the evidence). A cursory search online really is adequate.

So, that's where I directed them. I gave them the brush strokes, but asked them to read my writing: If they still wanted to talk to me after that, brilliant. If not, I wouldn't be offended. Well, I would be, but it felt polite to say I wouldn’t.

A day later, they replied. They'd read my work and would like to keep getting to know me better.

Result.

But, they had a question: Why was I so open about my mental health? Wasn't I afraid it would put people off me?

It's a very good question.

And it was one I already had an answer to (well, more than one answer, really): I always knew it would come up.

So, I told them...

One, if knowing I suffer from depression will put you off me, then you're probably not the kind of person I'd ever be attracted to.

If you're going to judge me purely on the fact that I have an incredibly common mental illness then there's the door, thanks for playing.

I wouldn't define anyone else by any condition they have. I'm not going to judge you because you have diabetes, or blue eyes. To be honest - I wouldn't judge you at all.

Far from it - if you have a medical or psychological condition, I’d like to know so I can find out about it. The more I know, the more I can help. And the more we can factor that into our relationship.

But that condition certainly won’t define you in my eyes. I hope you feel the same about mine.

All I care about is whether you're a good person, or not.

If you get to know me and decide you don't like me, fair enough. But, my depression doesn't define me, let alone make me inherently nice or unpleasant.

I’ve been judged purely on my mental illness for years. And I’m far more than my depression. I’m not going to lie - there will be tough times; mental illness and relationships are not the most natural of bedfellows. But it doesn’t make any union impossible. Just as any problems we do face in our relationship won’t just be solely down to my ‘black dog.’

If all you can see is my mental illness, then you and I simply aren't going to get on. I’m not being rude, just direct.

Two, yes - I do have a mental illness. But, one in four of us do, so good luck in finding someone who doesn't. I'm very far from being alone.

I'm just more honest than most about it.

Third, I may have a mental illness, but - if you're the same age as me - please can we not pretend that we both don't bring some emotional 'baggage' with us?

Attachment styles borne from childhood; anger-management issues inherited from your parents; unresolved trauma from childhood bullying; scars left from previous relationships/marriages... I might have 'issues', mine might even be diagnosed, but I'm not going into this being the only one who's flawed.

Been there, done that.

Fourth, there's no point in hiding my depression anyway; you're going to find out first-hand if you spend any length of time with me.

The gaps between my 'episodes' are growing and growing. Since my wonderfully explosive full-on breakdown in October of 2019, I've had one big wobble - February 2021 was stupidly tough. But, I'm working my socks off, and it's paying dividends.

But, it will still happen. At some point, I am going to get depressed. I'd rather you knew that from the outset - nasty surprises never fan those flames of romance.

And, finally, five, I want you to know because, if we do decide to take this further, you will become an active participant in helping me manage my depression.

It's going to impact our relationship - it's only right that you have a say in how we deal with that.

That might sound like a big burden to place on a partner. But it's not.

Getting to know each other, and being aware of what 'triggers' the other, is part of building a relationship. And, for example, if you tell me that every partner you've ever had has deserted you, and you struggle with a deep-rooted insecurity because of that, then I'll do my best to reassure you when you're feeling vulnerable.

Likewise, knowing that I might need a bit more TLC when my 'dark passenger' comes calling, or being aware that abandonment in that very moment when I am myself at my most vulnerable is the very worst thing you could do, is something that's only going to give us the chance to grow closer together.

Good answers, right?

I think so.

And so did they.

However, for me, the most important one is the last: management.

If you are with someone, then you're a team. You're in it together. And they have got to have a casting vote in anything that will affect them. Which means my depression.

They agreed.

And tomorrow we will meet for the first time and - at last - continue that discussion in person.

Oh, and by the way, it's not taking place while trekking up a massive hill in Wales.

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