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!