My fellow TV-n-Movie pal had "kwento" to share. No, it wasn't about the Ex texting her (although that did happen). This time she was about to share news about her being in a relationship. Can't share the conversation verbatim, but key words for me were manic depressive, second suicide attempt, drugs, cry for help and writer. (Ok, that last one wasn't really as bothersome.)They're old graduate college classmates, but she never finished getting her master's degree. She said she ran into him at this year's book expo (man, that event's starting to feel more like a curse than a coincidence) where she was working and reconnected there. Recently the guy had another "episode" and is currently seeking treatment scheduled (read: "confined") until January next year.
Being that this is her first "real" like-like relationship in 2 shades of forever, this wasn't so much dangling her toes in the water and more like jumping into the Olympic diving pool for wading lessons. Ignorance and an overactive imagination had me picturing Tim Burton, Vincent van Gogh and Jeremy Sisto's bipolar character Billy in Six Feet Under. My Freudian slip came when I said, "Well at least manic-depressive lang, hindi bipolar." (Later research reveals they're the same thing. Oops and yikes.)
That said, you can't help who you fall for, and when you do you're more forgiving of their past. Being her selfish, concerned and ignorant friend, I played supportive Devil's advocate. I told her I'm happy she's happy, but thought she could do better. I said I worry for her physical safety, but if her effect on him is similar to Helen Hunt on Jack Nicholson in As Good as It Gets, then I guess she'll be fine.
Ok, I'm gonna stop now before I shove my foot up my mouth any further and have to go to Mr. Quickie for treatment.
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