Excerpt from: Survival of the Flirting Impaired; Chapter 9, Catalouge Boy #2

Little did I know that my concept of passion was on the fuzzy side. As I “shopped,” along came a
fellow who noticed my tagline “Must Love Cats. . .” He was a cat
person and a very talented photographer. His profile was filled with photos of
him and his cats. There was also a link to his website where he had a gallery
chock full of cat photos. This guy was good on paper. He took a good
picture—both literally and figuratively. He and I found an enjoyable discourse
in talking about our cats. We emailed a little, and then we exchanged phone
numbers. At that point I encountered yet another aspect of dating I wasn’t sure
I knew how to deal with: the phone voice. This guy’s phone voice was . . .
a little soft. So soft, in fact, that I am sure in some circumstances my voice
had more timbre. My reaction surprised me because I’d always thought I was a
pretty open-minded individual. I definitely was not overly quick to judge a
book by its cover, and I had trouble being attracted to a pretty face if it was
attached to an asshole personality. This voice thing threw me a bit. I remember
thinking that I can’t be critical in that way, or I will start finding fault
with everyone and everything. So I pushed forward, choosing to “wait to worry”
about the soft voice. That meant I endured voicemail messages where he cooed to
my cat, and a few phone conversations where he recounted events that annoyed
him. I came to appreciate that his voice took on yet another dynamic when he
would pontificate on all that annoyed him: bitchy. I had to come to terms with
the possibility that this prospective mate had the capacity to take bitchy to
levels beyond my capacity. Take into consideration that I am no stranger
to PMS, and you have a situation with all the trappings of deeply disturbing.

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2 responses to “Excerpt from: Survival of the Flirting Impaired; Chapter 9, Catalouge Boy #2

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