MidReal Story
Love's Unpredictable Symphony
Scenario: fall in love with women with bipolar affective disorder
Create my version of this story
Sarah Jennings
mutual friend and confidant, friend to both James and Emily, athletic build, supportive and pragmatic.
James Carter
boyfriend and caregiver, in a complex relationship with bipolar women, tall with dark hair, compassionate yet conflicted.
Emily Hayes
girlfriend with bipolar disorder, James's love interest, petite with bright eyes, creative and unpredictable.
I have a type.
I didn’t realize it at first, but I do.
It’s not a physical type, although I suppose you could say that my type is women who are shorter than me, which isn’t hard because I’m six foot two.
But that’s not what I mean.
I mean that my type is women who have bipolar affective disorder.
I didn’t know it at the time, but that’s what she had.
We met at an art exhibition in the local library.
She was standing in front of a painting by a local artist, and she was staring at it with an intensity that made me want to know what she was thinking.
So I asked her.
She turned to me with bright eyes and a smile that made my heart race, and she said, “I think it’s beautiful.”
And then she told me why she thought it was beautiful, and I was hooked.
We talked for hours that night, about art and music and books and everything else under the sun.
This is where I should have stopped.
But I didn’t.
Because I was an idiot, and because I thought that this time would be different.
I thought she was different.
There was something about her that made me want to take a chance, even though I knew it was a bad idea.
If only I’d listened to the little voice in the back of my head that was screaming at me to stop, maybe I could have saved us both a lot of heartache.
But I didn’t listen to that voice, and so here we are.
I had just moved to the city, and I was looking for something to do.
I’d always liked art, so when I saw a poster advertising an exhibition at the local gallery, I decided to check it out.
The gallery was filled with paintings and sculptures by both amateur and professional artists, and there were people milling around, sipping glasses of wine and discussing the art in hushed tones.
I wandered around for a while, looking at the different exhibits, until I came across a painting that stopped me in my tracks.
It was a large landscape, filled with vivid colors and dramatic brushstrokes, and there was something about it that pulled me in.
I stood in front of it, staring at it with an intensity that bordered on obsession, until I heard someone speak beside me.
“Isn’t it amazing?”
It was a woman, standing beside me with her hands clasped in front of her chest and her eyes wide with wonder.
She was petite, with short dark hair and bright eyes, and she had an athletic build that spoke of hours spent in the gym.
She was wearing a tight black dress that showed off her curves to perfection, and when she turned to look at me, I felt something inside me shift.
I had seen plenty of beautiful women in my life, but there was something about her that made me want to know more.
“Yeah,” I said, tearing my eyes away from her to look back at the painting.
“It’s amazing.”
“I love the colors,” she said, moving closer to the canvas so that she could study it more closely.
“And the composition—it’s so powerful.”
“You’re an artist?”
She shook her head as she stepped back from the painting and turned to face me again.
“No,” she said with a smile.
“I wish I were.I’ve always loved art, but I’ve never had any talent for it.”
“Me neither,” I said with a shrug.
“But I can appreciate it.”
“Me too.” She smiled at me again, and this time I couldn’t look away.
There was something about her smile that tugged at my heartstrings, and even though I knew it was a bad idea, I couldn’t stop myself from asking her name.
“I’m Emily,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m James.” I shook her hand, and her fingers were warm and soft against my skin.
“Not originally, but I just moved here a few months ago for work.” She nodded, and there was a flicker of interest in her eyes.
“What about you?”
“Are you from the city?”
She shook her head.
“I moved here for school, and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Where do you go to school?”
“The university,” she said.
“Are you a student there?”
“Not anymore,” I said with a wry smile.
“I graduated a few years ago.”
“Oh.” She smiled, and there was a hint of shyness in her expression.
“I guess that makes me a bit of an old lady.”
“Not at all,” I said, shaking my head.
“There’s no age limit on learning.”
She laughed, and the sound was like music.
And then she said, “Listen, would you like to come to a concert with me next weekend?”
I opened my mouth to ask what kind of concert, but before the words could come out, she added, “I play the cello in the City Philharmonic, and we have a concert coming up.”
“Oh.” I frowned, because I didn’t know much about classical music, but then a thought occurred to me.
It sounded like fun.
I nodded, and her eyes lit up with excitement.
“I’d love to,” I said, and she smiled.
“Great.” She looked around as if she were searching for someone or something, and then she glanced at her watch and sighed.
“I have to go,” she said, and her expression was apologetic.
“But I’d love to talk to you more about art and music and everything else.We have a café in the concourse where we can get a coffee and chat if you want to.”
I hesitated for a moment.
There was something about her that made me want to know her better, but at the same time, I knew it was a bad idea.
I should have said no.
But instead, I said yes.
I followed her down the hall to the café, and we sat at a table near the window and talked for hours.
There was a spark between us, a connection that I couldn’t explain or resist, and I knew that I wanted to see her again.
When we finally stood up to leave, I mustered up the courage to ask her out for coffee after the concert.
She smiled and said yes, and her smile was like sunshine.
“I’ll see you next weekend,” she said as she got up from the table and turned to go.
“Emily.” Her name slipped out before I could stop it, and she turned back to face me with a questioning look in her eyes.
“You never told me your name.”
“Oh.” She smiled, and there was a hint of color in her cheeks.
“James.” I held out my hand, and she took it in hers.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” She smiled again, and her eyes were bright with excitement.
“I’ll see you next weekend.”
She turned and walked away, and for a moment I couldn’t move.
The sight of her retreating figure was etched in my memory like a painting on a canvas, and I knew that I would never forget it.
When she disappeared around the corner, I shook myself out of my stupor and hurried after her.
When I caught up with her, I couldn’t help but ask the question that had been nagging at me since we met.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
she asked with a smile.
All at once I felt a rush of emotion and realization sweep through me, like a wave crashing over the shore, and I knew the answer to the question I had been asking myself all night long.
“Yes,” I said as I gazed into her bright eyes and felt my heart swell with joy.
“Yes I do.”
Our coffee date was even better than I had imagined it would be.
We talked and laughed and got to know each other as we sipped our lattes and nibbled on pastries from the display case behind the counter, and before I knew it the afternoon had passed and it was time to go home.
As we stood up from the table and walked to the door of the café, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful Emily looked in the golden glow of the setting sun.
Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her bright eyes sparkled with excitement and happiness and something else, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
She was radiant, and all at once I knew that I would do anything to make her mine.
“James.” She smiled up at me, and her expression was hopeful.
“Would you like to go out again?”
I hesitated for a moment, then I took a deep breath and nodded.
I liked her, I wanted to see her again, and I couldn’t wait to get to know her better.
“Yes.” I smiled back at her, and my heart leapt with joy.
“I’d love to.”
We walked out of the café arm in arm, and I felt like the luckiest man in the world.
A few weeks later, we went out on our first real date.
I took her to a fancy restaurant for dinner, and then we went to see a movie.
When I walked her back to her apartment after the show, I kissed her goodnight on her front steps under the glow of the street lamps, and when I pulled away from her, she smiled up at me with a look in her eyes that took my breath away.
It had been so long since I had gone out with a girl I actually liked, and I had forgotten how good it felt to be with someone who made my heart race and my stomach flip-flop with excitement.
It was amazing, and I couldn’t get enough.
I couldn’t wait to see her again, to hold her in my arms and kiss her soft red lips and feel her body pressed against mine, and when I closed my eyes and thought about it, I knew it was going to be incredible.
“Tell me more about your music,” I said as we sat at our table in the café and sipped our lattes.
“I want to learn everything there is to know about you.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“You’re such a cheeseball.” She playfully swatted my arm, then she turned serious and sighed.
“Where do I start?”
