So this one time, I found a note on my car.

…And by “this one time” I mean last week.

I was minding my business, doing my weekly shopping trip at Publix (an AMAZING chain of grocery stores for those of you not in the southeastern corner of the US) and life was good. I paid for my groceries & walked to my car to find a small, folded up post-it note wedged in my driver’s side door. Tiny, yellow and almost unnoticeable at first glance.

My immediate thought when I saw this note? “Fuck. Someone hit my car and is leaving me their insurance info. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

I then proceeded to scurry around my car trying to find the damage that, turns out, was not there. This was not one of those “hey so sorry, I hit your car” notes. This was something else. Curious, I finally open it, and boy was it a real gem.
That’s right. Carly Rae Jepsen. I love her, but was not expecting to be picked up using one of her hit songs from yesteryear. This was a first. Clearly, I had to share this with all of my followers and friends. Everyone was encouraging me to do it, exclaiming things like “CUTE!” or “You have to text him!” My friends and family really wanted me to give this mysterious stranger a shot. …So I did.

I created a Google Voice number (this is KEY when you’re texting someone you don’t know, just as an FYI to my readership) and texted him with it. We were going back and forth, all was well, but then he started getting oddly douchey. Meh. If you know me, I don’t really get along with douchey individuals. Needless to say, I peaced out on that shit rather quickly.

Thanks anyway, Carly Rae’s #1 fan, but I’ve got better things to do than sit here listening to you say creepy things like “I likes. I likes” about my profile photo on Twitter. Duces.

I’m seeing someone… and it’s not you.

“Somebody said you got a new friend. Does she love you better than I can?”

Okay. I know starting any blog post with a song lyric is so cheese & so cliché, but it’s Robyn & was good enough for Girls (aka one of my favorite shows on TV) so it’s good enough for me, too. Deal with it. Basically, this little nugget of a lyric is going to segue into what this blog post is really about:

Guys who say they don’t want a monogamous relationship, but jump into one shortly after ending whatever ~fling they had with me. This has happened to me. Twice. Within a 4-month span of time. Not kidding.

The most recent one involved someone who I have had annual flings with. That’s right, I said annual flings. They ARE a thing. Every spring, Brad (yes, Brad from my inaugural post) & I would seem to feel the need to reconnect, hookup a handful of times, some shift or event occurs & then we go our separate ways until next time around. We almost tried the relationship thing once (oddly enough, his jealousy & feelings for me really showed when I was in a piss-poor, downhill relationship with one of my many sailors in 2010 – God bless the Navy!). This time around, we decided to reconnect a little earlier than scheduled. We had ~relations on a random Tuesday night, and we texted regularly about random things. I even called him later that week about the particularly rough week I’d been having (work & friendship woes mostly), & he was more than happy to listen to me vent. He’s the kind of person I could typically talk to for just about anything. He’s got a hodgepodge knowledge base. It was something I really liked about him because we never ran out of things to talk about.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. My best friend, Wendy, found Brad in the parking lot of their mutual place of employment holding hands with some girl. Now, as long as I’ve known Brad, he hasn’t been one to ~hold hands~ with anyone. He’s only really been deeply intimiate in the romantic sense maybe …once? in the countless times we hung out/hooked up together. I found that quite strange and just a tinge hurtfulHow come I was never good enough for hand-holding? Ugh, but I digress.

The bottom line, is that Wendy texted me immediately after seeing it, so naturally after calling & gabbing at her about it, I texted him for confirmation. Yep. Confirmed. They decided to “make it official” the day before. He told me he wanted to “tell me in person” because he thought it was “the respectful thing to do.” Hmm… I call bullshit.

Needless to say, we no longer speak. Probably. Until next year? Yeah, I’m not so sure about that. This guy does not know the definition of “common courtesy,” therefore, he’s no longer worth the time.

Obligatory “I’m lonely on Valentine’s Day” post

Oh Valentine’s Day. You come through every single year on the same exact day, and yet I am still unpleasantly surprised when you & you pal February creep around the corner & scare the bejesus out of me & January as we stroll along in time together. Great analogy, right? Yeah, I know.

Moving on. Valentine’s Day always sneaks up on me, and I am always left without so much as a date, let alone a relationship. I think I’ve had 2 “real” Valentines in my entire 22 years of life, and I guess that’s enough to be thankful for because there are women that are my age & haven’t had a single one yet. Out of the two men that I shared my Valentine’s Days with, there was only one man I truly can say that I loved & cared for. The other was a total cheesehead that looked like a fucking plastic Ken doll, except Ken actually had abs & “Perry” actually had a penis. For the record, the penis wasn’t as impressive as the plastic abs would’ve been, so… yeah.

So here I am, alone on another Valentine’s Day. Am I a little bit bummed out? Sure, I guess. Overall though, I’m feeling pretty indifferent. I have shit to do on Valentine’s Day anyway. I have a full load of conference calls & important meetings at work & I have yoga class at 6:30. Oh, and let’s not forget: I have a chilled bottle of white wine, the 2nd & 3rd seasons of Gossip Girl & a carton of Breyer’s chocolate ice cream that have my name written all over them as soon as I get home. So what if I indulge in bad things tomorrow? Who the fuck do I need to impress? The answer is simple: No one except for myself.

Well… And maybe this little bub-a-lub to the left, because if I’m going to have an honorary male Valentine, then he is it.

Happy Valentine’s Day, readers.
Now go home & enjoy a tub of ice cream & some mindless television.

I am an emotional masochist.

I have this problem where I put myself in these situations that I secretly know will never work out, only to wallow in heartbreak & despair for a week afterward. I also tend to repeat these situations over and over and over again half-hoping for a different result. You know what they call that? Insanity. They call it insanity. If they could put straitjackets on brains, I would totally take mine & wrap that baby up tight. Good grief.

The night before leaving Jacksonville to spend the holidays with my family, I went to Derek’s house. You know, one of the main men featured in my little poem. Derek, for all of you new folks playing the home game, is the one that was extremely emotionally raw from his previous break up. They’d been together for 6 years, and finally parted ways after the girl cheated. Damn me & my desire to date the damaged goods time & time again.

Derek cut me really deep when we had relations earlier this year. Derek did not want any kind of romantic relationship with me. Derek was solely somebody that wanted to be my friend, if you want to even call it friends. I call it a one-sided case of unrequited love, with me holding the shit end of that stick. I’ve walked away TWICE, not wanting to be friends because the pain was too great for my head & heart to really wrap themselves around…

And yet here I am at Derek’s house helping him babysit his neighbor’s kid. As I watch Derek play video games and roughhouse with the kid, I realize that he is going to make a fantastic father someday. Danger! Brain, stop. Don’t do this. Don’t go down this road.Tell those thoughts to go away. We don’t like them. No! …Damn it, Brain.

Cue all of the thoughts of what I actually want from Derek flooding into my head. Don’t worry everyone, the thoughts were NOT about getting married & popping out his babies! Instead, they were the usual thoughts about my desire for a real relationship. I want something that will actually work – not the usual crash & burn. I want that with Derek because he makes me laugh, he keeps me grounded & can sometimes be so wonderfully insightful about complex life situations. And yet, when the child finally goes to bed, and I suddenly start acting very weird around Derek, he admits to me that he’s still not into it. Let’s be friends. I think you’re so cool, but I don’t want to be in a relationship with you.

That always seems to be the case. I’m so great. I’m so cool. I’m so this. I’m so that. The only thing I don’t seem to be is “relationship worthy.” At least, that’s how my mind chooses to process these situations. In reality, I’m just looking for relationships with people who simply don’t want relationships. Period. I’ve solved my own problem, but my brain just doesn’t want to accept the solution at all.

Like I said… I am an emotional masochist.

Bonus: I hope you all had a very happy holiday & that 2013 is filled with joy, health & prosperity for you & yours. Tilly & I send you lots of love. In fact, here’s a photo of him tuckered out from Christmas festivities looking fresh with his bowtie from Etsy seller SnoopCattyCat. He’s the fucking cutest, ok?

Don’t be THAT couple.

In my years of adulthood, I’ve been to a handful of parties, made frequent trips to a few favorite bars & even regularly took part in the weekend nightclub routine. Most of the time, I’ve had a positive experience, with some nights being more memorable than others. However, on occasion, my friends & I have the pleasure of running into THAT couple. You know exactly who I’m talking about… It’s the couple that makes anyone within 4 feet of them feel severely uncomfortable. The couple that will grind on each other nice & slow, not even realizing that the music has changed to something more rapid & fast-paced because their faces are too busy trying to eat each other. The couple that, despite the clearing of throats at the bar and elbow nudges on the dance floor, will still continue to make a spectacle of themselves.

The couple that should probably just go home & have sex already. 
We’ve all seen them, many of us bothered by them and even a slight few of us who have had the experience of being them (myself INcluded). Despite making everyone in this crowded & stuffy club freakishly uncomfortable, the couple still continues to drunkenly suck face, palm at each other’s naughty parts & ignore everyone, as if it was their own personal fuck-room. At that point, I have to ask, “Why are you still here?

Honestly folks, I am all about embracing your sexuality. If something turns you on (so long as those somethings are not lewd – like animals & underage or non-consenting humans for example), I say have at it. However, please consider the environment you choose to partake in your sexual activities. An intimate bar does not mean that bar is for doing your most intimate activities. The middle of a crowded dance floor is not the place to be standing with your faces cupped in each others hands, playing a round of tonsil hockey. A beer pong table at your bro’s frat party shouldn’t be used as a makeshift bed for your over-the-clothes grinding escapades. I mean really, I don’t think your bro would appreciate you knocking over his Solo cups & spilling his Natty Light all over kitchen tile while he’s in the middle of a match.

Bottom line: Be safe, be smart & be conscious of your surroundings. As much as you would want the opportunity to watch yourself sucking face with a sexy son of a bitch at that club/bar/party/crowded public area, a majority of the rest of the world does not. 

This has been a public service announcement brought to you by your friends at Sex & The Kitty.

Patience is a virtue, and I’m not the least bit virtuous.

Oh dating. You’re quite the complicated little beast. You’re so complicated in fact, that Corey & I have dedicated half of our blog to your nonsense (and the other half to our “darling” kittens, but that’s another story). The problem with dating, at least when it comes to dating me, is that I simply have no patience for it.

It’s true. My patience level goes from zero to none. Can you blame me? I am Gen Y. I want everything right here, right now, and if you’re not willing to jump into that comfortable relationship with me after a few “good” dates, then get packing. I know it seems brash, I know, but I am brash. I’m pretty sure my photo is next to the word “brash” in the dictionary. I have no shame in it. It’s just how I live my life, and – for the most part – it works.

But why am I this way with dating? Well my dears, it’s because I was strung along a few too many times by men overgrown boys only to be left in the end with another notch in the bedpost & an achey heart. In the celebration of achey hearts, I’ve even put together this adorable little poem to compile the situations and excuses I received time & time again.

Derek was raw from his last breakup.
Brad just wouldn’t commit.
Shane just fell off the face of the earth
And Kevin didn’t give a shit.

You can call me Dr. Fucking Seuss.

Now see? This is why I get down to the brass tax, and this is why I pretty much ruin every relationship before it even starts. For the love of God, don’t follow my example. It’s actually something I’m trying to work on. You’re supposed to be patient. Don’t jump into things. It usually scares the shit out of the other person, and quite frankly, will make you come off as ten kinds of crazy. You don’t want that, do you? I didn’t think so.

So the lesson here: Be patient. Slow down. Enjoy the ride because usually that’s the most exciting part about a potential relationship. The ups and downs keep things interesting. Don’t get me wrong, the comfortable stage is like my best friend, but after it sets in for a while, you’re going to get nostalgic for the “good old days.” At least… that’s what people tell me. I wouldn’t know. My lack of patience these past couple of years has completely killed any sign of a relationship before it really could thrive. kitten photo alert! This is Tilly. He & his brother Gus are, like I said, what the other half of this blog is dedicated to. He’s my little ball of fluff & the only living being to keep me warm at night – even when the temperature is already hot. He’s kind of derpy and creeps around the house a lot, but for the most part, he’s loving, gentle & extremely photogenic. Let’s be honest, he clearly gets that last bit from his mother. He rarely gets in trouble for his actions because… Really? Look at that precious face. He’s pretty much the most lovely & silly little creature I’ve ever encountered.

This is companionship at its finest, ladies and gentlemen. A woman & her cat. Boy, don’t I sound like a cat lady in the making? You’ll be seeing more of my derpy cat, his brother, Corey & I so long as you subscribe to our blog. I don’t care how you do it, just do it – and make sure you buckle up because it’s going to be a long & bumpy ride.