 Hello, Cat Ryan here. Just wanted to let you know that I’m back in the saddle again—the saddle, that is, of internet dating. The good news is that after a few false starts I finally made a friend. Yes, a male friend. Woo hoo! They do exist, after all. Could this be a case of “When Harry met Sally” though? Harry didn’t think that males and females could ever be friends because the “sex” thing always gets in the way. Do you agree with this? Well, I tend not to. I think that if two people have lots in common and there is no physical attraction between them, then yes, they can be friends. I also think that even with males I’m attracted to, if I take the sex out of the equation, I need to know that we can at least be friends; otherwise, once the “lust” phase is over the whole relationship will collapse.  But back to the internet dating: A couple of weeks ago, I had coffee with a rather cute younger man (don’t ask me how much younger than me he was because I won’t reveal this in public). Anyway, this guy was very engaging and we had things in common, and I found myself thinking that perhaps our new “friendship” would turn into something more intimate. I could see myself getting involved with him, even though he wasn’t as cute as Richard Gere in American Gigolo, but then, who is, right?  Our date went well, we had lots to talk about and liked each other, and I thought he was rather romantic. He paid me nice compliments and told me I looked 26 instead of 4... (well, let’s just say 40, shall we?). We parted with a lovely hug, a chaste kiss, and the promise of another meeting. I then drove home and congratulated myself on how easily I got back in the saddle again, and was already anticipating our next date when suddenly I get a text message from him to the effect of the fact that he enjoyed the coffee with me and that he thought I had fantastic boobs. OMG! Talk about vomit! Why do guys do this? Where’s the romance in “I love your boobs?” No class whatsoever. And that, my friends, was the end of that short-lived interlude.  This turned out to be just as bad as the guy who waited until he met me before he told me he was married. Needless to say, I had a very quick cup of coffee and ran out of there.
It’s really sad that with the advent of online dating and social media it has become so much easier for people to cheat on their spouses. There is very little honour left in this world, and even less fidelity. So there isn’t much we can count on these days, except for those Nigerian scammers who are forever after me! Thank heavens I got it down to a fine art now, and it generally takes me under 3 seconds to find them out.
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 They say that it's better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. Hmm. Let's examine this further. I think we can all agree that when we first find love (no matter how misguided or blind we are) we feel like our little friend "Super Kitty". We are faster than a speeding bullet, can leap tall buildings in a single bound; we fly through space and everything looks absolutely "f....ckng" fantastic; that is, until we crash! This is when it turns out that the object of our affection has feet of clay. In fact, it would be nice if the object of my affection had cement shoes instead (but that's another story and something for The Godfather to work out).  So, after the devastation of a breakup and the death of our dreams, we are left feeling a little bit like our friend, The Pink Panther. Oh, just shoot me! And we start asking all sorts of questions: "What did I do?" (This is a typical one asked, mainly by females. I mean, why should it be our fault all the time?). "Why did he/she leave?" And some of us get the good old: "It's not you, it's me" bullshit.  Okay, so the answer to the question: "Is it better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all?" The answer: I DON'T FREAKIN' KNOW!!! And you thought I was going to say something really philosophical, right? Sorry to disappoint you. All I can say is that while the first phase of love can be as exhilarating as landing a 747 airplane on your own while being guided by "ground control", and have Bruce Willis in the back of the plane shooting all the bad guys; having your heart broken is like crashing the bloody plane and killing everyone onboard--including Bruce Willis! Is there a payoff to putting yourself through all this, only to come out bruised and absolutely crushed with disappointment at the other end? Ask the Dalai Lama.  There is only one thing I am sure about, and it is this; having gone through some harrowing experiences with the opposite sex, I've learned the following: *If you’re an author, your writing suddenly gains more depth. *If you’re a woman over 40, you have a higher chance of being killed by a terrorist than finding a real man. *You get sick of people telling you that “what goes around comes around”. This means to me that I must’ve done something really terrible in a previous life (or even this one) in order to deserve meeting those #%&@#@ good-for-nothing SOBs. *Life’s a bitch and then you die :-( *“Eat, Pray, Love”. I tried eating and got indigestion; I prayed, but this didn't change any of the psychos out there; I didn’t find anyone to love yet, but then, I'm not Julia Roberts; however, ... I AM STILL COOL!  |
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