Editor’s note: In case you missed them, catch up on Nikki’s previous Dating Diaries posts here.
Something happened to me that makes me think my dating karma is really bad.
Last Friday, I was out with some friends when I ran into my ex–the one who dumped me by email and whom I’ve fantasized about getting revenge on ever since. I saw him across a large bar patio, smoking, drinking and laughing with his friends. He looked like he was having a pretty good time and also like he didn’t know I was there.
I got my gag reflex under control and started considering my options. Go over and throw a beer at his face and possibly go to jail or just ignore him and go home. Staying and enjoying myself was out of the question and saying something to him that wasn’t just the sound a cat makes when you step on its tail was also out of the question. None of this is the part where I think I have bad dating karma. It’s coming.
So I lingered for a while longer, trying to act normally around my friends and frowning at him from far away, trying to decide if he had gotten fatter. Almost definitely he had gotten fatter. My chest was feeling constricted and I started feeling really sad.
I went home. The new Taylor Swift song that I find to be hugely disappointing, even if perfectly titled “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” came on the radio. My ex-boyfriend was also hugely disappointing so I went ahead and turned the volume way up. How does he deserve to have fun? That is a privilege reserved for decent people! Why did I have to run and hide? He really should be racked hard in the nuts.
It went like that in my head for a good hour. As I was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, hot rage was keeping me up. I thought about texting him murderous things and counted to 100 until finally, I dozed off.
I woke up the next day and the first thing I thought of was him–how glad I was that I didn’t do anything stupid, whether he saw me, whether he felt bad about how things went. I was sad and exhausted, pressed snooze and tried to get some more sleep. By then my cat was all up in my grill, trying to cuddle with me. I was shoving her away and she kept straddling me with her entire body.
And then my cat shat on my face. Just right on my face. I had to scrub for several hours and scream a lot and I’ll probably never feel normal again. From the outside, there may not seem to be an immediate connection between my cat taking a dump on me and my dating karma. My ex didn’t place my cat’s butt over my face while she defecated, but really he might as well have.
I didn’t take an angry verbal crap on my ex-boyfriend but for some reason, my cat still took one on me. What did this mean? It seems silly now, but all day I was obsessed with this idea that it was a punishment from above. My cat didn’t just poop on me because shit happens. She pooped on me for a reason. And I must have done something really bad to deserve it.
If the lesson here is that I need to forgive my ex, I’m not sure I’m ready to do that. But I also don’t think I can take any more shits to the face if I don’t. (No, I don’t think my cat is God.) I took the opportunity to review some of my dating history and reflect on some of the stuff I might have done wrong. I think I generally treat the men I date pretty well, but I do backslide to guys I’ve already been with a lot—that ex-boyfriend in particular. There’s brand recognition, you know?
Call it a sign from God; call it a random, drive-by pooping. If it means preventing another shit facial, I will swear to the heavens never to restart another failed relationship. In case that doesn’t work, I will also lock my cat in another room when I sleep.