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Eleanor Roosevelt is quoted: "Do one thing everyday that scares you." These words, typed on a refrigerator magnet, remind me to take action. I absolutely believe in taking risks to grow as a person.

What can be more intimidating than online dating? Who'd be interested in me if he found out I had faulty brain wiring? Fortunately, a new Internet matchmaker gave me the confidence to take this risk.

A friend gave me one of those ubiquitous postcards for www.NoLongerLonely.com, an Internet dating service for people with mental illnesses. It's designed to make the process of finding a mate easier because you're in the same boat. Yet, as I learned, this can be a challenge too. Remember, you have the control.

One guy sent me a first e-mail expressing interest, left his phone number, and asked me to call. That's inappropriate in the online dating world. His profile said he was "separated," a coy term that, on the Internet, means a guy is married and looking to have an affair.

Trust me on this, I've asked other women and the story checks out, so save yourself the heartache and move on. Besides, even if it were true, the man's half in, half out of one relationship, and may not be ready to commit if it looks like he's going to turn back to his wife.

Another person responded to my profile, and he seemed genuine. He was a nice guy, and we spent the rainy afternoon walking in the Village. We shared an umbrella. When we chanced upon the courtyard of a church, he reached up, pulled a flower off the dogwood tree, and gave it to me. Charming. The next week, we had dinner and went to a show. At the end of the date, it was awkward. I wasn't sure if I wanted to see him again. Luckily, someone else was interested in me. We exchanged a flurry of e-mails, and decided to meet at a blues club. This, too, didn't go anywhere.

While you're supposed to be at ease because each of you has a mental illness, I'd rather not talk about my history on the first date. I prefer to get to know someone for who he is, to find out his hopes and dreams. The conversation about hardships can come later, as we get to know each other.

I may be the odd girl out, however, when it comes to this. I prefer not to disclose, and that's just how I am, because I feel there's so much more to life. I've heard a guy say, "I know I look like I have a disability, and I don't care." He spent the night talking about his troubles.

It's a fine line: embracing our mental illness allows us to say, "To hell what people think of me!" and on the other hand, we're giving it power over us. Focusing on difference isolates us from others who don't have an illness, when we should be finding common ground.

The hot debate right now has been whether it's best for a person who's on the dating scene to hook up with a consumer, or branch out and be in a relationship with a guy who is "chronically normal." I feel I have my own limitations, and I'd rather not have to deal with someone else's baggage on top of this, regardless of whether he has a diagnosis or not.

This summer, I met a new guy. I'm optimistic. I like spending time with him, and I'm excited to see where it goes. Internet dating has been my "one thing." I'm determined to push past my fear.


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