Just because I have 5 Cats Doesn’t Mean that I’m not Interested in Sex



Just because I have 5 Cats Doesn’t Mean that I’m not Interested in Sex.

I get it, I really do, the look that obscures my date’s eyes when I reveal that I live with five persian cats. I observe their swift calculations….Crazy?  Hoarder?  I feel minimized during the assessment process and know that they have downsized my essence and filed me in a folder marked – No Longer Interested in Sex – Danger – Close File.

Okay, I’m a woman of a ‘certain age’ – how I despise that dismissive phrase – (think vibrant forties) – who has weathered a partially self-imposed sexual hiatus.  Please note, I can still sprint, or stagger in stilettos with the assurance that an acupuncturist or massage therapist is just across the street from my upper east side domicile. That’s convenience.  What isn’t convenient is meeting and establishing a connection with ‘men of a certain age’ who are vaguely emotionally available, single, widowed, divorced, spare me the 50 year-olds who have never been married.  There’s just not enough time – they just don’t get it.

Admittedly cats are infinitely less fickle and more faithful than men.  To my knowledge, my cats have never strayed into or lost themselves in another woman’s bed.  And when they take time-outs by wandering into mysterious crevices in our apartment, they always reappear and are ready to re-engage.  They do purloin large areas of the bed but offer luxurious furry warmth and irrefutably alluring purring.

There’s no substitute for a muscular body and hopefully quick mind and wit that a man can offer.  My cats were never intended to substitute a man’s affections, at most I wanted them to supplement a well rounded emotional accessibility that I’ve struggled to cultivate.

My cats are always emotionally honest.  They prefer my lap to any one else’s, and they’re always incredibly affectionate when I’ve been gone for a night or two.

Seconds pass, an awkward silence is prolonged as intense displeasure flushes my throat and neck.  I feel my date’s assumptions rearrange the contours of my character into something that I am not – disinterested in sex.  Maybe I’m not interested in you.

Until then…sweet purry dreams!

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