2593 Cats and guys

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Woman describing how one does not realize how final death is:
“And then I found I was waiting for him to come home.
He'd been dead long enough now, it was time for him to come home.”

About a year after Jay died, I found that I was waiting for him to come home.

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Last summer, 2008, I worked on a project with a Mensan I'd never met before. He's a member of the Southern Columbia subgroup. He was very quiet, but I noticed the flicker of expressions on his face, and was amused that he noticed the same things I did, and seemed to react in the same way. That always attracts me. The first time I met The Man, we were sitting opposite each other at a large round table, and I was amused by and attracted to the flickers on his face.

I've since seen this guy, I'll call him Blue, about once or twice a month at dinners and hikes. I'm impressed that he is so nice, pleasant, and, rare in Mensans, he's sensible, reasonable, listens to others.

Well, there's something growing. I have not been encouraging anything - I don't sit near him or (consciously) flirt - but he brightens when I walk in the door.

Blue was at the trivia dinner earlier this month. We sat in different booths, on different teams, but back-to-back, so we kibitzed a lot over the divider. At the end of the evening, all 11 left together, and stood in the street chatting for a few minutes, and then people peeled off to head for their cars. I was parked up the street, he was down the street. When I started walking to my car, he followed me. I turned and said, "Your car is over there, isn't it?", and he said yes and kept walking toward me, smiling and raising his arms out slightly.

You know how you know when something is being signaled, and you respond to the signal without thinking about it?

So I automatically stepped into his arms for the hug. Mensans hug a lot anyway, but Mensan hugs don't usually involve full arm wraps and cheek pressing, and rarely last more than three seconds. It felt like he didn't want to let go.

It bothered me all the way home, and has bothered me since. I'm debating not going to any more So. Columbia events for a while, but hey, I like that group. And darn it, I like him. I just don't want things to get awkward.

He's married. I don't fool around with married men. I don't even imply I might. There lies nothing but heartbreak, and besides, their wives are always bigger and more drama-prone than me.

(Spouses rarely attend Mensa events. They're always welcome, but mostly they choose not to unless they are also members. So I haven't met Mrs. Blue.)

On another front, there was a man at the other end of the table at Friday's Albany dinner. He sent me an email later that evening saying that he hoped we'd sit closer next time so we could talk more.

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I can easily leave Miss Thunderfoot and Jasper alone for up to three days, with dry food, plenty of water, and their litter boxes. But if it's more than overnight I have to separate them. Otherwise Jasper will eat all of Miss Thunderfoot's food, and will terrorize her.

It's easy in my house. There's a door between the livingroom and the bedroom wing hallway. Jasper gets the LR, kitchen, laundry room, and DR. Miss Thunderfoot gets the bedrooms, den, and bathrooms.

I've found that when I return home, if they were separated, the two cats seem to be angry with each other for a few days. I thought it was just that they missed me and were jealous of my time. Now I wonder....

I wonder if they realize I'm gone. If I don't shut them in their own part of the house, they can search for me and know I'm not home, I'm not with the other cat. But when half the house is not available, I wonder if each of them thinks I'm holed up with the other, beyond that closed door, and the other cat is getting all the petting. I wonder if they're jealous.

And that's the other reason I don't play with married men.
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