I went on a third date with someone named Randy, from Oklahoma, who eventuallyy came to the Bay Area by way of Colorado. He is a geek who works for a company right next to my employer.

We went to my favorite Afgani place at my suggestion. I told him about my trip plus taught him a couple of words in Russian, which he has been studying with a native speaker teacher.

We had awesome juicy lamb, my favorite meat. Awesome pumpkin. Awesome eggplant. Awesome salad with their signature yogurt dressing. I had red wine.

On our first date we went to another favorite mediterranean restaurant of mine but I did not enjoy because I was on Topamax.

This time I really liked the food, its taste, texture, and smell.

So I started telling him how much I enjoyed and how first time I was on this migraine medication Topamax which caused aversion to food and dizziness and many other bad things (meaning, but not saying it out loud, lack of orgasms) and how I am now off it and how I would rather persevere through more migraines but enjoy my life in~between them.

I was startled when in response he shared with me that he understands how medications can do both good. Things and bad things because he takes medications for depression and needed to try several ones before finding something that works. And also that sometimes they work for a while and then stop.

OK.

I asked what he is on. He said Lexapro.

I said that I take a tiny bit of Prozac but with me it was the first medication tried and instantly successful.

OK.

He keeps driving and says that his thyroid is causing his depression so he takes a thyroid mediication. I inquire which one. He says Levoxyl.

Then I say that I take Levoxyl too, because I am bipolar and take Lithium, the oldest and most traditional medication for bp, which does one bad thind, killing my thyroid, so I take. Levoxyl as an antidote.

He does not act surprised and explains that his situation is the opposite of mine, with the thyroid dysfunction preceding the illness. I nod with understanding.

Cool.

It reminded me of my inviting Peter, my black cat Tommys former owner, not as a date but to have him play with Tommy... at the end of the dinner poor Peter was done reciting the names of multiple antidepressants he tried. Again I said that I lucked out on Prozac which helped right away and.a.small dose does the job. But I am bp, not depressive, I said. He said that his mother is bp.

Where are mentally well people, may I ask?