Thursday, December 05, 2002
      ( 10:03 PM ) Rebecca  
So. Silent but Deadly Boy. You haven't heard much about him because I've been going on about that cursed doctor. You know, the one I can't have, who doesn't want me? But I think SBDB might be a keeper.

I don’t know for sure, of course. I have been known to make bad decisions. To get crushes on the wrong people. People with intimacy issues. People I have nothing in common with. People who smoke pot five times a day. People who cheat and lie and wear tighty-whities.

BUT. SBDB seems…SOLID. Yeah, I know, boring, right? Well, that’s what I thought the first two times I met him. Bland. Boring. Yawn. And certainly not glam. In the immortal words of Sleater-Kinney, call the doctor! The third time I met him, it was like “oh!” You are kind, and real, and hot! And seemingly not afraid of me!

Lemme tell you a little story. Two weeks ago, in the sleep-deprived thrall of my karaoke date with the doctor, I wandered down the street for coffee. All I could think about was the doctor this, the doctor that.

Then, from a block away, I saw the most beautiful cat. It was sleek and black and delicate. Suddenly, all my energy became focused on that cat. I wanted to pet it. To pick it up and nuzzle that glossy fur.

So I made kissy noises. The cat whipped around. It looked at me expectantly and my heart leapt. A friendly cat! I slowed my pace so as not to scare it.

“Hey kitty kitty,” I cooed, holding out my hand. As I got closer, I saw it was even cuter than I’d imagined, with a red heart collar, and huge aqua eyes. “I love black kitties,” I was thinking. “I miss kitties. You’re so pretty, don’t run away! Please let me pet you!”

I approached and the cat ran towards me. I breathed in sharply as it brushed against my fingers and then skittered away up the little slope that led to its owner’s gate. Oh no.

“Kitty! Come back! Don’t do this to me!” The cat turned to look at me. It’s eyes were longing, but it was scared. I tried to be still. "Don’t frighten it," I thought. "Don’t breathe."

It meowed. Several times. Watched me with its wide-set eyes.

I talked to it low, seductive tones. “Kittttyyy….come here... I just want to pet you.” And the cat would make a motion forward, then jump back. It didn’t know whether to come or go. Then finally, with one last anguished look, it slipped under the fence.

That, I thought, as I walked away, is a sign.

Tonight I was running down my street. Trying to calm my nerves because, suddenly, now that I liked someone, now that I was, perhaps, ready to try dating one person for a while, I was utterly afraid that that this person didn’t like me – despite every evidence to the contrary.

Maybe I had scared him already. Maybe I had asked him to do too many things. Maybe I seemed too eager. Maybe he doesn't want a girlfriend.

The anxious thoughts were circling like sharks, when suddenly, I came upon a black cat -- in almost the same location as before. Because it was dark, I didn’t see it until I was almost right on top of it. But, as I came barreling towards it, it didn’t run away.

This was a fat black cat, with speckled fur. Not the sleek, glossy creature I’d seen before. I was going to run right past but it looked so friendly, so unafraid, so solid, I stopped. I petted it. It arched into my hands. Then it looked at my face, as if it wanted up.

So I reached down and scooped it up – all 13 or so pounds of it. I took the risk of getting scratched, of having it run away, and picked that cat up and cuddled it. It purred. It let me squish it up against my face and whisper in its ear. It let me kiss it. And when I finally, reluctantly put it down, my anxious thoughts were not so anxious anymore.

This cat knew who it was and knew what it wanted. It wanted what we all want. But some of us are comfortable asking for it and some of us are not. Some of us are comfortable getting it and some of us are not. This cat, though, was all about love.

And that, I thought, as I ran away, is a sign.

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This blog was the inspiration for my novel. It helped me get through a horrible breakup and kept me entertained for years. But all good things must come to an end. I will recycle oldies but goodies from the archives here, but will blog about about writing here, and about all kinds of other stuff here.

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