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Relationship Problems

April 8, 2011

Since the fall of 2002 I’ve lived with the same special someone. We’ve been through a lot: countless moves, life in three cities, stalkings, plumbing calamities, unemployment, the eagle highs and earthworm lows of academia, you name it. We love and accept each other fully, and our relationship is grounded in mutual respect. I know I could never live with anyone else. But this week we’ve found ourselves enmeshed in our first serious disagreement, and I’m not sure how to proceed. I guess I just need to get this stuff off my chest in the always insightful and supportive environment of the internet.

Recently, my sweetheart began to express dissatisfaction with the layout of our apartment’s furnishings. We have only one chair, and although I’m as scrawny as they come, she happens to be built in the opposite way, and we can’t both fit on it comfortably, especially if I’m trying to write or do homework, which I usually am. The days are getting sunnier, and she’s been requesting somewhere in the sun to hang out. She likes to look out the window and she’s always enjoyed a good nap. The chair just isn’t cutting it, in her opinion, and I completely agree. So, finally, a few days ago, I went out and purchased a second piece of furniture to install by the window. I brought it home with excitement, certain that it would please her and make life better for both of us.

The item in question is a combination scratching post and window-level perch. It wasn’t cheap, if I may bring up such a vulgar matter as money in a post about love. Not that I made any mention of the cost to my significant other. It was a gift and I was happy to give it.

The following photo series chronicles her reaction to my generosity.

Exhibit A: Wednesday, April 6, the day after the momentous purchase. As you can see, the perch is easily accessible, yet note where my roommate prefers to spend her evening. Personally, my own personal preference is that she not drape herself across the back of the chair in this way. She often loses her traction, resulting in many, many claws planted in my back while she re-settles herself. Painful. Unnecessary.

Exhibit B: Thursday, April 7. I awoke in a hopeful mood, confident that today would be the day my sweet furry friend realized that the post’s location and size were perfect for her pur(r)poses. (I mean, if you were her, could you resist this magnificent thing? I didn’t think so.) Once again, however, my enthusiasm was dashed more liberally than an Emily Dickinson poem. See below:

Now that’s just mean-spirited. A friend had suggested that I move the perch closer to the chair so that my animal companion could access it more easily. The day before, she had condescended to walk around the sides of it but refused to set a paw inside it. Taking the friend’s advice, I shoved the post a couple feet over and waited for the magic to happen. As you can see, the experiment was a failure. Despite the generous stream of sunlight–perfect perching conditions–my special roommate is loitering on the windowledge out of sheer spite.

Exhibit C: Friday, April 8. Not gonna lie, the past 48 hours had been frustrating. But today was a new day. Now that she’d thoroughly inspected the post, it was only a matter of time before she jumped up there and settled in, right? Remember, I’ve been harassed constantly for the past two months about this. It was made very clear to me that my beloved dearest wanted to be in the sun and didn’t want to share a seat with me. I do everything for her. I buy her food. I vacuum 36 times a day because she saunters around the apartment shedding everywhichwhere like a syphilitic prostitute. I brush her constantly even when I should really be doing something else. And what do I get in return? That’s right, Rodney Dangerfield: no respect.

But okay. All hope was not lost. I coaxed my honeysweet babylove adorable schmoopyface over to where I was sitting and attempted to get her to notice the extravagant scratching structure towering before her. True to form, she scrupulously avoided giving it the slightest glance. She did, however, flop down right fucking beside it...


I treat this beotch like gold and she’s so ungrateful that she can’t even thank me in the smallest way. I’m losing it over here. Maybe I’ll go to the SPCA and get a different cat, one that will appreciate me. Do you hear me, Sappho? How would you like that? If I just went and got someone smaller and cuter than you and just spent all my time with her, would that be fine with you? Hey, maybe I’ll let her eat food that I paid for from your food dish that I paid for, would that work? You think you’re such hot shit, you can’t even give me an answer, you’re just sprawled on the bed like “Whatever.” I’m so thrilled that after eight years that’s all I’m worth to you. I love you so much but all you care about is sleeping. Sometimes you show me affection but of course it always has to be on your time, like whenever you want it, I have to be here for you, but when I’m upset you’re like, Oh, sorry, I have to go eat more and then nap more; I’ve only gotten 15 hours of sleep today. I hope some day someone treats you like you treat me so you’ll know what it’s like. Then I’ll be the one laughing silently on the windowsill.

Sigh. Love is hard…

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