I feel one hundred per cent better today, hanging with my home-boy-cat, Jake, engaging in the fantasy of adopting a girl-cat doppelganger for my beloved Aida. One of many sites, called City Critters, allows wannabe adopters to trawl through pages and pages of potential kitty companions.
It's got to be like online dating - something I've never tried. I've looked over some of my girls' shoulders while they checked email for winks (no nudges?) in response to their posted profiles, but never felt the need to take the plunge myself.
And that brings me right back to Datomantrix. A self-proclaimed, avid, online dater, I believe her profile includes words to the effect, "Too much fun for you." But she may have changed that. In any event, besides her inherent good looks, she gets - and there is no other way to say it - plenty of hits.
She schedules her meet-and-greets, the first dates, in quick order, sometimes more than one in an evening. Impressive. I know I would mix up names. I'm sure I couldn't keep the names and faces straight.
Listening to her after-stories, it seems as though a quarter of the dates yields some kind of success. A few cocktails with a new man, and she loosens up. A kiss, an accompanied walk home to her door, a shared cab ride and some canoodling, and yes, sometimes an invitation upstairs for more. A hot and heavy make-out with a much younger man, hours of oral sex with another ("He was the best!" until there is another, then: "He was the best!"), or the whole enchilada ("Ohmigod, I am so exhausted today - we did it like four times last night!").
A note of explanation. Datomantrix was married once, when she was too young, in her very early twenties. She had a child, a girl, who is now a young woman of legal drinking age. Unlike some of the rest of us, Datomantrix did not have wild or salad days as a twenty-something in the city. I believe she's making up for lost time. (I remember an early, grey morning in 1986, after I spurned a one-night-stand, he sneered at me, "You're nothing but a man-eater.")
Have any of Datomantrix's fellows lasted? Not yet. Is she looking for a steady? I'm not sure. It's a quantity thing, not a quality thing.
Sometimes a man will linger beyond a date or two. But at some point, when they begin to act needy, demanding, or want to see her when their schedules permit - and for one reason only - she backs off. The emails, text, and voice messages fly. She'll write, "This isn't working for me anymore," or "I've found someone else," or "Stop calling or texting me every half-hour. It's over." These can elicit the wildest responses.
At least once a week, a Datomantrix email will sear across my inbox. She's got a new story, and for me, a never-ending source of voyeuristic, salacious entertainment.
The Voice of Reason sighs. "I'm not a serial dater. I'm just looking for someone who goes beyond date number-one. I would like to date a man more than once. Who's not in the mob."
And then there's that: "Not in the mob."
Tonight, I'll go to the gym, then stay at home with my companion of more than fifteen years. So what that he has light, red and white, striped hair all over his body, that he has a tail, and that he purrs and meows? And sneezes. He's my boy.
Yes, we are doing better. I took Jake out to the East End. He's never been. Latina and I have been sofa-loafers, and the cat is roaming around the house, curious and funny. It has helped assuage the loss. Thanks for your kisses. A le prochain Frenchtuesdays, absolutement
Posted by: Holly Hodder | Sunday, January 15, 2006 at 08:05 PM
It is so nice to read that you are feeling better.
Gros Bisous.
Posted by: Liz Jr. | Sunday, January 15, 2006 at 07:58 PM