I have come to one conclusion in life: the mentally ill seem to gravitate toward me.
And I don’t just mean the psychotic alcoholic woman living one floor down. She is the host of an insane variety hour all her own. Even Freud would throw in the towel with her. But that is just part of a string of people who somehow end up in some way connected with me, and have for the majority of my life.
Dating life has proved this point. One ex faked his own death to avoid taking over the “family business” (i.e. the Mexican Mafia). Another had a secret plot to build his own “compound” (his word, not mine) in the country, live self-sufficiently, pretend to be straight, and have me as his “mistress”. Another was a Navy man who believed he was a vampire. Then there was the young man with severe anger-management disorders… not to mention the last one who compounded his violent, crazed outbursts with alcohol.
And then, during my days spent going to bars and even working at one, I met quite a few colorful characters. The most disturbed and seedy characters always felt the need to keep me company. Hustlers always pinpointed me out of the crowd. Drug abusers somehow thought we would have things in common. Delusional individuals would always sit next to me and attempt to strike up conversations ranging from their experiences on UFOs to their magical powers.
In the paranormal realm, I have received phone calls from crazed people screaming about ghosts at 2:00 AM. Others tried to convince me to head out to a haunted place in the middle of the night because they had a “feeling” there was something demonic afoot.
Honestly, I’ve heard just about everything. Nothing seems to shock or amaze me anymore.
Don’t get me wrong. Not everyone I’ve encountered in my life is a borderline psychopath. There have been a few wonderful people I have had the pleasure to have known, and still know in many cases. I still hold some people very dear, no matter the distance or personal problems they may have.
Still, the crazies do tend to love me…

