Dear Cat-Check Boy,

You don’t even know that’s your name, and I confess I’ve long since forgotten your real one.

I met you in 2003. Your strong face and blue eyes struck me from across the bar. You stood out amongst the lackluster men I had encountered since moving to that small town.

I admit it. I approached you, thrilled to see an attractive man after a year drought.

We chatted. Drank. Laughed. Connected.

I learned you volunteered for a local fire department (super sexy and admirable as hell).

As the bar closed, you offered my friend Amy and I a lift home (chivalrous too).

We exchanged numbers in the back seat (victory!).

Then you made that false move…You pulled out your checkbook.

I didn’t notice it at first, but Amy did.

“You have cats on your checks,” she giggled.

“Oh my!” she exclaimed. “They’re not just cats. They’re cats with wings!”

I laughed inadvertently and silently willed you to explain it away, “Oh, my ex picked these…”

You didn’t. Instead you retorted, “What’s wrong with cats? I like cats!”

My Florida-Gator-emblazoned checkbook flashed before my eyes.

I said to myself, “A gal with football on her checks and a guy with angel cats are definitely not a match made in heaven. And who pays a bar tab with a check anyway?”

You didn’t share my skepticism. You called me. I didn’t answer.

And when I bumped into you at the Super WalMart, said “nice to see you” as I passed by, and then sprinted to hide in the fabric-section of the store, you tracked me down.

“Why didn’t you call me back?” you asked.

I fed you a half-true statement: that I had reignited a past relationship and was no longer available.

Thank you for pretending to believe me!

Ten years later and prompted by my recent need to renew my Discover card, I write you this letter.

I couldn’t help but get nostalgic and think of you as I debated between the custom card designs. I wondered, would you still pick from among the cats?

Or could we now find some common ground, select a neutral nature scene, and call it a love connection?

Was my decade-old evaluation of our compatibility simply silly notions of a 20-something? Or was my somewhat simple-minded assessment accurate?

And then I recalled what happened a few months after we met. That’s when you began dating my coworker, and I learned that cat wallpaper adorned your bathroom walls.

“He does love cats,” she sighed, cheeks flushed.

That, my feline-loving friend, is the reason you remain my favorite man who I *almost* dated. And it’s why you just might be the best sex that I, and every other cat-check judging woman out there, never had. – Meow!