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Misery Loves Company. And Cats.

In order to fully appreciate what it meant to become homicidal and then suicidal in the span of 11.6 minutes I only needed to do little more than partake in an evening out with Pussy Face.  A man so miserable that margaritas instantly become virgin and the nachos bland.  If Jesus could turn water into wine then Mr. Face could turn wine into piss.  The only thing worse than going on a blind date with this boring cat lover with bad teeth was that I had not brought along a 9mm.

I should have known better than to agree on meeting a man with only one picture posted on his profile.  Only half a picture actually, for his fluffy feline friend was blocking the lower half of his face.  Feeling that his overall stats more than made up for the lack of face I could see, I went along with the date expecting the worse but hoping for the best.

Initially, I was a tad turned off and a bit skeptical by the animal picture.  Don’t get me wrong, I love animals.  Ok, not all animals.  I’m more of a cat lover than anything else.  I don’t particularly care for little dogs.  Their unfounded sense of bravado gets on my nerves and they bark too damn much.  You’ll never see me carrying one in a purse, but I digress.  I’ve always found a single man’s dedicated attachment to his pet(s) as somewhat unnerving.  This may or may not come across as bizarre on my part and clearly one of my “issues” but this is my story, so fuck it.  Feline or Canine I’m always weary of a man and his bitch.

The first sign of trouble was when he pissed me off during our initial conversations by implying that women were all game players thereby coming across as a bitter loser.  This should have been clear indication enough.  It was not.  I initially told him we probably weren’t a good match yet when he wrote back to apologize saying that he’d just “had a bad day” and wanted to take me out I felt that Pussy Face should be given a second chance.  However, when we finally met face to face and he looked at me as though Hitler had just exited my car I KNEW things were Not. Going. To Go. Well.

Why had I decided to meet him after such a rough start?  Because apparently I’m a horrible judge of character and I was bored.  I was also curious.  If the bottom half of his face looked half as good as the top half I felt as if I could make things work.  But when I first saw him I wasn’t any more impressed with him as he was with me.  It suddenly became apparent why he was sporting a pussy on his face.  The same reason a bald guy posts pictures of himself wearing hats.  The same reason a guy sporting a lazy eye will post pictures wearing sunglasses.  This, I would come to find was no different a situation.  You only hide things that you don’t want to be seen, hence, hello Mr. Weak Chin And Fucked Up Teeth.

He spent what seemed like 623 minutes describing his terrible job, his failed baseball career, his terrible apartment, his lack of friends, shitty women and his adorable kitten, Spade.  The next 547 minutes were spent telling me how he showed his defiance to “The Man” by keeping his cat in a No Pets Allowed apartment.  Gangsta.

As if his looks weren’t bad enough, his attitude made him about as appealing as making love to a Komodo dragon.  Within minutes of sitting down to cocktails, listening to Pussy Face made me acutely aware that there were knives on the table and that with just a slight flick of the wrist I could make all this pain go away.  In short, he was the most miserable mother fucker I had ever come across.

When I wasn’t plotting my escape I spent much of my time wondering if he took family Christmas portraits of himself and Spade.  There wasn’t one single thing about this man’s life worth living.  Except his cat.  And THIS, my friends, is exactly why this idiot is single and always will be.

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8 Comments

  1. Holly B
    November 29, 16:46 Reply
    Its stories like this that make me glad Im married... though sometimes I see heavy objects in the house and the back of the DH's head and ummm...... uhhhhhh....... OH yeah. Sorry but I laughed at this which meant I laughed at your misery. Im sorry. Im bad. <span class="cluv">Holly B recently posted..<a class="d3b790fb24 543" rel="nofollow" href="http://midwesternmamah.blogspot.com/2010/11/hills-are-alive-with-sound-of-banjos.html">The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Banjos</a></span>
    • missmelisamae
      November 29, 17:47 Reply
      You're not bad at all! These types of stories are just too entertaining not to share :)
  2. Clappadelics
    November 29, 17:47 Reply
    "If Jesus could turn water into wine then Freddy could turn wine into piss."................... JESUS! I don't need anymore one-liners for today, thank you.
  3. Boldly Mocking
    November 30, 00:09 Reply
    Very colorful - and I like the use of counting down the minutes spent with Pussy Face. Please tell me the miserable clod paid?
    • missmelisamae
      December 01, 06:59 Reply
      The miserable clod most certainly did pay. If he hadn't I might have started using those knives I was eyeing on the table.
  4. James
    September 23, 03:24 Reply
    I dont care if I'm discriminating , but I look at a man with a cat funny, A man who cuddles with a cat is not a manly man and something is wrong with that picture, and as for dogs if the dog is a girly dog and not a mans dog there is something funny about that as well especially if he lives alone an its not on a farm.

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