So, after 36 hours of hell, which began with a vet appointment and continued with leaving the Man-Kitty at the vet (and which leaving prompted a strike against both eating and drinking and FUCK YOU if you think that I will pee for you) and then bringing him home and locking him in the bathroom and being like, um, you need to provide me with a urine sample, and he was all, um, FUCK YOU until he couldn’t hold it for any longer and then he finally relented, it turns out, he has nothing physically wrong with him. We had a big long talk about the cat who cried “I’m going to pee on the kitty cushion in the window,” but he doesn’t care. Because I’m supposed to read his mind and stuff. Because it’s not his fault if I’m not a cat. That said, he has been delightful since returning home, so maybe torturing him for days sent him a message about how he should behave? WHO KNOWS.
It’s worth noting that the Mom of Crazy was all: “You do realize that he is just like every guy you date.” To which I responded, “what, because they pee inappropriately?” and she was all, “I don’t know about that, but I do know that they aren’t good with change and they act out inappropriately in ways that make you unhappy.”
Throughout this (non)ordeal, I will say that The Dude was very supportive. And this encouraged me to offer a proposal for being together (to which he has not responded as of yet) that actually expresses what I want. As of today, he is Mr. I Shall Text You about the Weather as a Pretext.
That’s all good. I feel good that I really articulated what I’d want, and I don’t actually need a response in any time-frame to that. I just felt like I needed to actually articulate what I want since I’d not done so to that point. And what’s the difference these days? It’s not like I have the power to make things MORE fucked up. So at least I have been honest, and if he doesn’t respond or responds negatively, well, then, I know he’s not for me. But I had to take my shot before I put myself back out on the market. Because I’m pretty sure that neither he nor I can come back from that, in terms of us.
So yes, the Man-Kitty is a neurotic freak, and so, too, are the men whom I choose. Now, you might say that I am the common denominator here. Don’t think I haven’t thought it. But whatever. The Man-Kitty is not dying of some terrible urinary disease, and I am not dying of some terrible relationship. Both of these things are good news, at least in the present time.