The Cat Lady

Pretty sure I’m going to be the cat lady. Also, pretty sure I don’t care. At this point, I’m like, aiming for it. I’ve gotten so used to being on my own that trying to blend my life with anyone else’s (especially in a marriage, I mean, it’s really hard to get out of that), would just make me change in little ways that I don’t want to change. I’m really happy with the balance I’ve struck – I don’t even need a child anymore because I already got one. Literally there isn’t anything at all that I need from a relationship that I can’t get, probably with less hassle and nagging, on my own. I get my own money, I have a tool kit, I know how to fight, and can do all of that plus carry all my female responsibilities, no problem. I’ve been doing it. I’m entirely self-sufficient. It’s working for me.

Plus, the majority of homicides are committed by spouses. I’m sleeping good right now, why would I risk having to sleep with one eye open? There was one guy who killed his spouse on their wedding night. I’m going to guess she wasn’t expecting that. Also kinda weird that he even bothered with the wedding in the first place. What was the point of that? Oh, reminds me of a line in a movie, Cars 2: “To really crush one’s enemy, you must first raise their hopes very high.” – Francesco Bernoulli. Poor girl.

Anywhoo, I’m not too worried about that, but I’m sure some less astute judges of character should be. Plus, I mean, anybody can be blindsided, there was a woman on Lockdown, Christian woman, who just decided one day out of the blue to blow her husbands head off. Clean. Smooth. Off. For no reason. She just got it in her mind to do so. I mean, I guess once you’ve been in prison so long, you learn to forgive yourself for the crimes you’ve committed, since you’ve got nothing in the world but time to do so and come to terms or whatever, get right with God, but the way the woman was grinning as she told the story of the murder, along with the crazy way she had painted her eyes and lips with her prison makeup… I think it was crushed up crayons or something, she looked like an insane elderly female version of the Joker. The woman had adult children and a happy marriage “or so she claims” and just decided one day to randomly toss it all and go to prison. Pretty sure she even promptly told on herself too. Crazy.

Alright, enough about Lockdown and spousal murder, I could go on about Lockdown for days, though, that show is nuts. It’s so interesting to hear the perspectives from behind the bars. To actually be able to listen to them and see first-hand that some of them literally never stood a chance in the free world. Not a chance. It’s both fascinating and atrocious. I wish I could help them. Also, some of those dudes are sooo hot!!! And they haven’t seen a woman in how long!? I mean… minds drift… thoughts happen… I wouldn’t want that for real, but it’s a fun little scenario that plays out in my mind… in real life I would probably be murdered, or at least grievously harmed, and that would not be sexy at all. That would ruin the whole fantasy. Which kinda brings me back to my point: I’m realizing that the happily ever after that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life isn’t ever going to happen. What plays out in my mind is more beautiful than what’s possible in this world for me. That’s just how it is. I’m coming to terms with that. My expectations are way too high, and I just don’t care to lower them. I’d rather be the cat lady.

Plus, I’m aging terrific, I’m amazed at how good I still look at my age so… pretty sure I’m going to be getting dicked the fuck down till I’m done and don’t want it no more…. Maybe seventy, or eighty, I could probably catch an orderly in the nursing home if I really wanted, although, probably not the hot orderly. I’d be thinking about the hot one while the one with the buck tooth and lazy eye got into my sweet, sweet elderly panties. Ewww, that’s gross. I hope I’m only kidding around about that, but I guess time will tell.

I do so much at home that I can’t do with someone looming over my shoulder all the time. I sing, I dance so much, I talk to myself in the mirror and make silly faces, and josh around and be silly with my munchkin. I’ve bloomed like a flower and I don’t want to be plucked because that’s when you start to shrivel up and die. It’s happened before. I’ve tried it so many times and it always just slowly suffocates me. I think I pick the wrong dudes. Something is wrong with me. I don’t know what and I don’t know how to fix it or if I can fix it, but like a magnet to steel, I’m always emotionally drawn to the biggest asshole in the room. I recently got in touch with my ex, and I’m really glad I did. The timing was perfect, and I think I subconsciously engineered that little serendipitous bit of perfection, just because of the way it came about, which is another story, chalk it up to the Lord’s will. Anyways, he reminded me that I am the way I am and that I forgot that I wear his ring as a reminder. I loved him like crazy and I thought I missed him so much, but I kinda just miss what we had; how intense and fiery it was. I think I missed the excitement, and the passion, and maybe even the drama or something. I don’t know. But the takeaway is that if I feel something like that emotional pull towards a dude, it’s not love. It’s never ever love. It’s actually a very strong warning that the man is an asshole who’s going to ruin my life if he gets the chance. That feeling means run away and don’t look back. Fart real loud or punch him in the face if you have to, but run.

So, yeah, I’m single.

But I do have relationships… more like friendships. Just not with anyone who sparks me up like that, and with only the sweetest, nicest guys I can find, who suit my needs, schedule, and temperament. I actually logically asses and choose excellent playmates. And these aren’t exclusive relationships or anything because if there’s no plan to get married, then why settle for just one? What if your one is busy when you need him? Then you’re supposed to sit there and wait around? Would they do the same for you? It doesn’t even matter because no thanks, I’m single, don’t need to answer to nobody or wait on nobody, let’s move on to lucky door number two… although door number one hasn’t failed me yet, LOL. He’s fire.

Haha, I once told him… I can’t remember the exact words, but I’m pretty sure it was the best compliment I ever gave anybody, um “I wish I was a songwriter, because then I would write a whole album of songs about how good you fucked me last night. I would go on tour and sing songs to millions of people, and all those songs would be about your dick and how amazing it is. Dude, like… you don’t even know.”

But doors number one, two, and three all know what time it is. I’m not a liar, and I’m not a cheat, and a lot of that shit seems to go on in relationships; Beyonce seems angry she’s smashing up cars, I didn’t catch the whole story but one day I’ll listen to the song (The “Becky with the good hair” bit gave me a chuckle), seems kinda miserable for my tastes so I haven’t gotten around to it, but all I know is my life isn’t like that, and that’s not the kinda life I’m trying to have (except obviously I’d like to have the money part of that life). It’s all love and happiness like Al Green with me and the reason why is because I’m not all up in anyone’s face 24/7. My shit is engineered never to fail. We never argue, we never fight, we have closeness, and even love for each other, and we’ve known each other forever. It’s great. I can disappear for a year or two, no questions asked, he can go if he wants to whenever he wants to, and there isn’t going to be any messy fights or divvying shit up or any nonsense like that. It’ll never go anywhere, it’ll never change from the perfection it is. Well, it’s almost perfect.

The only problem is rough times. I’m just going to come out and say it. Sometimes, especially when I’m going through something rough, I can start to long for some connection that I know I don’t really want and that I’m not cut out to commit to and so, I make up an imaginary friend. Yes, I’m a grown woman who copes by making up friends… not a bunch of them or anything, I mean, although I’ve imagined group scenarios, I wouldn’t consider any of those guys my real friends. Just one specific guy, and no, I’m not insane, and my one little temporary imaginary friend doesn’t try to convince me to set fires, or murder anyone. I know it’s not real and the whole thing is entirely in my imagination and under my control and that’s what I love about it. The only time I actually do need a man is when I’m at my most weak and vulnerable, but that’s the most dangerous time to try and find one, so instead of risking it all for a more emotionally fulfilling lover in a dangerous time like some kind of a moron, I just make up someone perfect who can’t do anything wrong; who can’t possibly turn out to be an asshole and/or ruin my life. He also can’t help me open jars or kill spiders, but that’s okay. He just waits in my bed for me. He loves to listen and cuddle.

Some people may say that a real person is better, but you can’t just snap your fingers and magically poof another person away when you get tired of dealing with them. I mean, you can online, but you can’t in life. You have to actually disengage yourself from them and if they don’t want to let you go then you could be pretty fucked, lets not forget about spousal murder here. This is the time when it always happens. In addition to that, you can’t give a real person a script to follow. That would be weird.

The funniest part of this whole thing, is that I really loved, wanted, and had some fun, serious long-term relationships when I was younger. I was all about it. Now that I’m older, I’m entirely over it, and I’m so accustomed to my own personal space, freedom, and coping methods that an actual relationship would pale in comparison to what I’ve got going on my own. Weirdly, men seem to be the reverse. When they’re young, they don’t want to settle down or have relationships, but as they get older, that’s when they want it. So, who knows, maybe it’s all just bad timing or something, but for whatever reason, nothing really worked out and now my imaginary boyfriend appears when I need him, and holds me so sweetly until everything is okay… now all’s I need are some cats.

One thought on “The Cat Lady

  1. Full of your usual honesty and humour… the part about your future self in the nursing home cracked me up. The unique thing about your perspective is how logical, clear and guilt-free the way is you’ve made for yourself, so you get most of what you need and not much of what you don’t need. That takes a lot of self-knowledge to do, so congratulations.

    Liked by 1 person

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