Believe me, as a woman, I do realize that when you’re single, in your 30’s and live alone-blogging about your cats is probably not the sexiest topic.  Kind of like, I probably shouldn’t mention the cartoon bubble I can see above people’s heads in the grocery store that says “single”, when they see me pushing my mini-cart around loaded down with Lean Cuisines, Diet Coke, salad-in-a-bag and cat litter, but here goes!

Recently as I was piddling around the house, I rounded the corner and caught my female cat lying on her bed looking especially cute and cuddly, so I sat down beside her to get a little love and stroke her soft tummy.  For those of you who have cats or have spent any time around cats, a familiar scenario played out.  She let me stroke her a few times and then she got up and began to stand an armslength away, rubbing herself against the nearest piece of furniture, then coming close enough to let me pet her a few times before once again standing right outside my reach. 

Even though I know this is just what cats do, it’s strange because neither of my cats normally behave like your typical, independant felines.  Generally, they act more like lap dogs.  Anywhere I am is where they want to be.  If I’m on the sofa, they want to be right there beside me.  If I go into my bedroom, they follow me in there.  For the most part, I think this is sweet, although it’s the times that I least want to pay them attention that they seem to demand the MOST attention.  As I was telling Cassie in my sweetest kitty voice, what an ungrateful bitch she was for shunning my advances after I saved her from the cat shelter and from going through life with the name Dundee 11 years ago, I started thinking about how she and I aren’t really that different.

Cassie: photo courtesy of the power of catnip

My neuroticism about men and dating really began after my divorce.  It wasn’t the actual date that I dreaded so much as it was the contact leading up to and after the date.  I found that I just had no interest in the getting to know you, let me call you and ask you about your day, small talk phase before the date.  Even worse was the no, I don’t want to see you again, please stop calling me, now I’m not going to call you back and hope I don’t run into you phase.  I, in fact, HATED the stress that it caused me.  As I told my friend Marti Brick one day, “just thinking about having to deal with someone actually liking me and wanting me to like them makes me feel like a flock of birds just started beating around in my chest”.  The result was that I just stopped dating altogether-cheaper than anti-anxiety meds, right?

Love the tattoo, but better in the chest than on the chest, I guess

Now, over the years, my anxiety about dating has begun to lessen, but I have definitely noticed some trends in my behavior toward men.  Everyone familiar with the rules of logic?  Well, me either…

Rule #1.  If you flat out pursue me, I will run.  FAST.

Rule #2.  If you happen to live in a different town than me, I consider this to be a plus

Rule #3.  If I am attracted to you, you live out of town and seem uninterested in me, the likelihood that I have written my first name beside your last name is high

Rule #4.  I enjoy being the pursuer, not the pursuee, but only for a  limited, decided-by-me amount of time.  If you capitulate too soon, I will lose interest; if you wait too long, I will move on

Rule #5.  If I really like you, all these rules are bullshit

So, much like Cassie, I have found myself in the situation where I have been intensely interested in being pet by someone who would prefer that I leave them alone and when someone is sitting on the floor calling my name ready to give me all the love I want, I have a tendency to shy away. 

Goodbye for now, I gotta go take this cat book off my shelf and hide it in a box in my closet, before anyone sees it…

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