Experience changes your perspective. After 30 years of dating I’ve become decidedly more pragmatic about relationships.
One morning I was lulled from slumber by my cat Mia giving me a backrub in that uniquely feline kneading manner. It occurred to me, cats might actually be better than girls.
You may suggest this is absurd. Consider the balance sheet: While the good thing about girls is they can talk to you the bad thing is they actually do. Constantly. Cats don’t talk. There have been occasions when I wish they did but then I learned a lesson. In order to really talk you first have to listen. As soon as I really started listening to my cats they had more to say than I ever imagined. Sometimes girls make so much noise you can’t hear what they’re saying.
Cats can purr. Girls can’t. That is a tragedy of evolution. If girls could purr I wouldn’t have written this.
Girls use the bathroom. A lot. For a long time. Cats use a litter box. The logistics of this becomes apparent in a one-bathroom house when you have to pee. You’ll never be locked outside the bathroom for 40 minutes while your cat is getting dressed.
Speaking of that, cats are always naked. Getting a girl naked usually involves several dates, droll witticisms and a six-figure income. Don’t shoot the messenger. I didn’t make the rules.
Having two cats is much less complex than two girls.
Cats are less expensive by about $20-$100 K per year. Do the math.
All manner of unattractive bodily functions can be done openly in front of cats. They don’t judge. If you’ve ever been on an evening date after lunch at the Mexican buffet you understand.
Cat whiskers are good. Girl whiskers, not so much.
Petting girls is better than petting cats, but only just. Although brushing girls is good brushing cats is usually better since, again, they can purr.
Cats sleep during the day and want to play all night. Cats use a scratching post. Girls use us.
The pragmatist sees this relationship as a very close race. Men generally spend their first 30 years as a guidance system for a penis since their judgment is clouded by the desire to continue their genetic legacy. Once age, emotional baggage and cynicism converge the distinction between cats and girls becomes a very cloudy grey, until one beautiful blue morning when you wake up to your cat kneading your back and purring and you are free at last. No more veiled moderation of the ever-expanding gulf between the genders as they try to define their appropriate roles in a society changing too fast.
One place where girls win is that I’ve never had a girlfriend die on me. I’ve had three cats that died, and that was harder than losing any girlfriend, except perhaps one. She gave me my first cat.