Curiosity Killed the Cat, but Dating Affects Felines Too

I finally gave in and started online dating. I’ve been so lonely all my life–I’ve never had a “real” boyfriend–and I figured it was time. There were all of the looks I got at family gatherings, the “she’s probably a lesbian” looks, the “she could probably lose ten to fifty pounds” looks. I set up an account and posted my picture, something I didn’t think was too risque. I got a few responses fairly quickly.

The one guy who really caught my eye was, well, we’ll call him Jeremy Piven. Just throwing out random names 😉 He seemed like a total Jeremy Piven at first. We went on a date to a wonderful little Italian restaurant. He was attractive. He had dark hair and a slightly hairy chest–I could see, just above his shirt that was buttoned a little too low–and he had a scar right below his eye. I didn’t want to be rude, though, so I refrained from asking what happened to his eye. He claimed to be in law enforcement, and that he knew people high up–I don’t know where.

Through the course of the date, it seemed like we had so much in common. He went to my high school, it turned out, and had graduated the same year as me. I don’t know how I missed him–there weren’t that many people in my graduating class. He seemed to knew the area around where I’d grown up. He liked to twirl his mustache a lot, and he kept gnawing on his fingers. He said that he loved books, and wanted a library in his home one day. I did too. I’d just redone my living room in my apartment, filling it with bookshelves and books. He said his dream was to have three cats. He wanted to name them NeNe, Sheree and Kim, like the women from Real Housewives of Atlanta.

Those were the names of my cats.

I began to sweat a little. Things were certainly starting to go weird, especially when he talked about how much he loved my parents’ house. It seemed so quaint and beautiful to him. He said he wanted our life together to be perfect. He had run several background checks on me and my parents and even my best friends.

I excused myself to the bathroom, called my friend Chuck, and let him drive me home.

I ignored Jeremy’s calls and blocked his number. Things were getting weird. I felt like someone was following me. One day I came home and found the window on my front door broken. Someone had been inside. One of my cats had been dyed pink, and the other had a message shaved into its side: “MISS U”

Needless to say, I moved back in with my parents. I haven’t heard much from Mr. Pivens lately, but I know he’s still out there. They haven’t caught him–yet.

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