People. People are crazy. Such is the case of the Catman.
A little history...About six years ago, I moved into my first apartment by myself. I was excited and single, and ready to be outgoing and meet all of the people in my building. You see, at that point in time I had it in my head that somebody living in my building could potentially turn out to be the love of my life. That it would be so simple and by living on my own I was setting myself up for the perfect opportunity. Boy was I an idiot.
After going through this experience I'm about to tell, it can now be realized that that is most definitely NOT the way it's going to go. Nonetheless, I went through it, I grew, and I've learned to run, lock my door and leave it that way. Deadbolted.
The first encounter...It was a rainy day. Actually it was a terrential downpour, and thunder and lightning was abundant. My friend Jennifer and I had just grabbed a movie and were about to engage in girls' night. We were running into the building and laughing at the fact that we had become totally drenched in 3 seconds and the Catman opened his door. His door was the first after walking into the entrance. "Are you alright? Is everything ok? You guys look wet. Are you gonna make it?" he said quickly and excitedly.
"It's raining outside." I made an astute observation. He seemed a little kooky, but he was cute. And of course, as tradition proves, it was all downhill after that.
Over the next several months we would say hi to each other, end up in random conversations, and occasionally park next to each other knowing that we weren't going to scratch each others cars. I did generally enjoy the conversations. We even went grocery shopping together once which proved to be a difficult task because he had no idea where anything was located. For those of you who don't know me, I know Meijer like the back of my hand. Sad but true. One night there was a knock on my door and he had left a beautiful print at my doorstep (he was a photographer). It's hanging up in my place today.
But despite the interesting conversations and general politeness, something was a little off.
Attack #1...All of a sudden it was June. I love the summer festivals in town and on this night I headed to Island Fest to meet up with some friends. Magically, guess who was there? We said hi, my friends said he was cute, and we both went our separate ways. Nothing major right?
Wrong...here's what happened next. I got home pretty late and was well...a little out of sorts to say the least. The Catman must have been looking for me because as soon as I walked in the entrance to our building...SURPRISE! There he was. I said "hi" and kept walking past and he followed me. By the time I reached my door I realized...oh shit! he's going to follow me into my apartment. I didn't have enough time to get the door partially closed so I could just say good night, so he just waltzed right in without being asked. He seemed harmless so I thought not big deal right? We'll just talk for a minute and then he'll leave. Oh I was so dumb. But not that dumb.
He came into my place and we had a beer. It was a warm night so we both went out onto the balcony. In a creepy sort of uncomfortable way he started to massage my shoulders. Internal thought - this is weird. I stepped away and then he put his arms around my waist. Uh oh. 30 seconds of extreme awkwardness passed and I stepped towards my screen door. He started bringing up the topic of dating and who I was dating. Yes, I answered truthfully. Then I started to get that bad goose bump feeling. I quickly finished my beer and said it was time for me to go to sleep. "The stars look so amazing!" he said in a drunken slur. More like "tha strs look sooooooooo amaznnnnnnn."
What? What was that? Did he not just hear me say it was time for him to hit the road, sally forth, tally ho, etc.? "yep, they look good." Any other night and maybe any other situation I would have completely agreed because I'm a major star gazer. But too many uh ohs had occurred in the last 10 minutes to make it cool.
I walked inside my apartment and started to walk him towards the door. And then it happened, as if in a bad tv horror movie... he grabbed my arm, spun me around and kissed me forcefully...was that lemon? fresh lemon? where did he pull that out of? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, he had a lemon in his pocket. who does that? on the one hand it was terribly considerate. on the other, who does that? I was shocked. more at the lemon than anything. he ran over to my sink for a quick second and quickly washed out his mouth. what is going on? who does that? he ran back over and said "can I try that again? I really want to try that again."
Is this a test? Is this middle school where you're supposed to practice? Do I get to say whether he passes or fails? Uhmmm...stupid girl answer when caught off guard..."ok?" He tried again. This time with more force and a bit of a head bobble. My mind was reeling...what the hell is going on in my living room. Am I dreaming this? Unfortunately...Nope..nope nope nope. I snapped out of it and thought Thank you, don't come again. Poor guy. He's really trying, but I'm really feeling, well, weird would probably come closest.
First of all I should state that it wasn't a terrible kiss. It was actually sort of good?, but it just felt so wrong and so off and so damn weird. I felt weird (just had to make sure you knew) and told him it was time for him to go. He left with a sad puppy dog look in his eyes and for a second I felt bad. But not bad enough.
Over the next few weeks he avoided me like the plague. I didn't really know what to say and was fearful that if I came into contact, I would have to relive the lemon incident yet another time. I did occasionally wonder though...if we did ever date, would he constantly carry a lemon in his pocket? would he have to rinse out his mouth after every time we kissed? could he improve on the whole shoulder massaging technique? Yikes...time to stop thinking.
I had just reached a point when I thought I would never talk to him again because he hid so much and then one day when I came home from work, I was accosted in the parking lot.
Attack #2... I had no sooner gotten out of my car when he approached me and started asking questions. "Are you going to get a cat? You're single. You should get a cat." My reply..."uhm..no, I don't think I'll be getting a cat."
"But you're single, all single girls get cats. Yeah, you're going to get a cat." Was he trying to tell me something here? "Uhm...no, I won't be getting a cat." He continued to push the issue. "Yeah, you're going to get a cat. You'll probably end up with more than one. Come on, you should get a cat." This sort of badgering continued for what seemed like 5 minutes. That's a lot of dialogue to only be talking about one subject. Finally, I screamed out in the middle of the parking lot with others around. "I won't ever get a cat!!! I hate cats and will never ever own one! Now leave me alone." I ran inside. Slammed my door, and never saw the Catman again.
I think what I learned the most from this situation is, don't force yourself to like someone. If it's not going to work, it's not going to work. And forcing yourself into a situation will likely you put you at the will of the Catman. So, while perhaps I could have taken the Catman's lemon and made a mediocre lemonade with creepiness, I decided to leave the sugar in it's container and wait until the right lemon comes along.
