I am living with a cat and a dog. When I think of cats and dogs and how adorable they are, I thank God for their existence. My name is Karen Taylor. I am a curator at the Maritime Museum in Aberdeen, Great Britain. I grew up in this city, and I love the ambience here. I have a small apartment that I share with my adorable pets. I have a cat named Poppy and a dog named Sherlock. Poppy is an
|Love Click - First Part by Nicolas Page|
amazing mackerel tabby cat; she is so intelligent that sometimes I wonder if perhaps she was human in her past life. I believe she would be funny as hell in such a past life if it were to exist. Sherlock is a yellow golden retriever, and he is very mischievous. I do not think it is necessary to point out the fact that I love cats and dogs at this point. I am an average twenty-one-year old girl. Iâ€™m not really concerned with fashion trends as such. I prefer to sit in the rocking chair by the fireplace on a cold night reading an interesting book and living through the characters with Poppy and Sherlock sitting on either side. Boys do not interest me so much â€¦ Well, itâ€™s not as if Iâ€™m not interested in boys. I just find it a little difficult to meet anyone I actually like and am not the type that hooks up with just anyone unless Iâ€™m absolutely interested. One day in August, I had a lunch break. I walked to the nearest cafÃ© with a few colleagues. They are my dearest friends, and as girlfriends tend to do, we began to discuss our love lives. Soon the discussion turned to me, and I realized I had no story to tell. It was a little mortifying, and my friends could tell. Sharon, the most outspoken of us all, then proposed a brilliant idea. â€œGetting a boyfriend is ridiculously easy these daysâ€, she said smugly. I was intrigued, and I shifted in my seat towards her. â€œPray tellâ€, I said. She told me all about online dating and how easy it was to get a boyfriend through dating sites. â€œIt is quite easy my dear. All you have to do is find someone with whom you have common interests. You are bound to click on at least one level with such a person, and the other things will sort themselves outâ€ she said as she reclined in her seat and sipped her tea. I was very interested, and I decided to give it a try. Sharon helped me to sign up on a dating website. I used a picture I had taken on my phone of Poppy as the display picture. As part of my requirements, I wrote, â€œARE YOU FOND OF CATS?â€ I went home that evening after a particularly busy day. I had already forgotten about the events of the day. I cooked and ate, took care of Poppy and Sherlock and then I began to read. I got the first message that night. His name wasâ€¦ goodness, I canâ€™t remember! He was so very annoying. Even while chatting all he could talk about was himself, his achievements, which by the way are nothing to write home about. He said something about his dreams and how he had always wanted to be a superhero. The bloke was thirty years old who still sincerely wanted to become a superhero. He went on to his home, which he decorated himself with animal heads and about how much he dislikes pets of any kind! He was definitely not my type. The next day was the same story, and so was the day after that and the day after that. I was about to give up on online dating when I discovered a handsome boy; his profile was a little crazy. However, everything from his username, which was Felis Catus, to his profile picture, showed that he loves cats. He was definitely fond of cats and, of course, I was interested. His display picture showed him with about three cats and a very feline expression. We began to chat, and I was having a lot of fun conversing with him. My evening, which had been reserved for reading by the fireplace, became one of talking and giggling while Poppy and Sherlock stared at me suspiciously. I was acting like a fifteen-year-old, and they must have found it odd. Even I found it odd but it didnâ€™t matter. I liked this man and wanted very much to meet him. After chatting for a couple of days, we made plans to meet. I remember telling Sharon about the proposed date the following day. I was excited. It was my first date since forever and I really wanted it to go well. We made plans to meet at a cafÃ© downtown. I finished at work that day and made my way home. I got home, took a quick shower, applied light make-up, fed Poppy and Sherlock and I was finally on my way. I met Dennis, that was his name, at the door just as I was about to enter. He was punctual and I loved that about him. â€œHello Karen, Iâ€™m Dennis.â€ He didnâ€™t sound as childish as I was expecting. He was actually much mature, and that was also a real thing. We got in and ordered coffee and some scones. The conversation was incredible. I laughed all night. He being as handsome as he was indeed helped the matter. We began to see each other on a regular basis. After a week, Dennis invited me to his house for dinner. I was a little nervous, but I figured I had to trust him if we were going to have any chance of being serious. He picked me up at my apartment and drove to his place. I was surprised to find out he only lived a couple of blocks away from my place. He fixed me a couple of cocktails, and he was good at it. It was so delicious that I just had to have another. My alcohol tolerance is quite low, so my senses were totally muted after that second drink. We had dinner dazedly. It was delicious, but I canâ€™t quite remember exactly what it was that we had. I only remember the sensations, the feeling and the movement. We kissed languidly after dinner. Dennisâ€™s hands began to wander over my body. I wanted them there. We made love there and then on the couch. It was wonderful. I was still a little disoriented so Dennis assisted me into his bedroom. I fell onto the bed and did not wake up until very early the next morning. It must have been around 5:00 am or so because it was still quite dark. The light was off, and I could not see a thing. Something had woken me up, and I wasnâ€™t quite sure what it was. My senses came alive one after the other; my eyes opened but the whole room was completely dark. Something was not quite right about the way the room smelled; I couldnâ€™t figure it out at the time. My muscles were cramped from sleeping in an unnatural angle all night long. I must have been quite tipsy the night up. I remembered almost immediately that I was in Dennisâ€™s house. I soon realized exactly what it was that woke me up. There was something warm and wet touching my right toes. It was definitely not too bad, but it was a very strange feeling. It was also oddly familiar. Then it all got really weird. I heard strange noises in the background. The darkness amplified it and fear really got hold of me. I sensed movement in the darkness. What the hell is going on here?! A million thoughts crossed my mind at the same time. Was Dennis a serial killer? Perhaps there were other girls strapped to surgical tables going through different phases of torture. Perhaps I was his next victim. Different weird thoughts ran amok in my mind until I calmed down. Dennis was not a serial killer. I was free. I wasnâ€™t strapped or bounded. I was free to leave. All I had to do was switch on the light. I took a deep breath and turned the light on. There was a cat right beneath my feet. It was a little white cat and it was so cute. My face was about to break out into a smile at my silliness when I noticed a slight movement at the corner of my eye. I raised my head up and saw then, dozens of cats. They were all beautiful, individually, but the combination of them all was unbelievably scary. A scream almost escaped from my mouth before I controlled myself. I didnâ€™t want to scare the cats. It occurred to me then that they probably couldnâ€™t be scared. There were, at least, ten different breeds. There were a mackerel tabby, a classic tabby and a poor, one-eyed but huge, black cat that reminded me of a character in Pirates of the Caribbean. He looked like he was the leader of the pack if there was a thing like that. Another big cat was snoring quietly in one corner of the room. I calmed down and looked at the design of the room. It was conceived as a wellness hotel with a dining corner and fitness devices. However, they were all for cats. I felt a movement beside me, and my already overcharged senses flew into overdrive, there was a cat between Dennis and me on the bed! I had landed myself in a cat conservation â€¦ I started to find the whole scenario hilarious. I then understood that Dennis was indeed fond of cats; oh he was. Even a blind man could tell. I picked my way to the living room. That was when I noticed the cat food stocked on the shelf in the kitchen. There must have been at least fifty packs there. Dennis loved cats, a little too much. Love was probably a mild word to use; obsessed was more appropriate. I found my bag and eased out of the room. It was around 5:30 am by the time I got out of Dennisâ€™s house. I changed apartments because that episode with Dennis really spooked me. I like cats; God knows I love them. Whatâ€™s not to like? However, that was definitely too much for me. I learnt a profound lesson from that experience. Now I know I should refine my searching criteria on dating websites. Being a cat lover was not enough. Hell, from my experience with Dennis, it might even be too much! Sharon was right about one thing: I should find a man I have common interests with. These shared interests do not have to be restricted to a particular point. There are a whole lot of things to connect with a man over. I havenâ€™t given up on online dating. I met Dennis, hadnâ€™t I? And that had definitely been fun while it lasted. All I have to do next time is to refine my requirements in a man while searching â€¦ Well, perhaps a dog lover? Career Opportunity I consider sporting activities to be of the utmost importance. How else would my body stay fit and firm? I am a sporty, twenty-five-year-old lady. My name is Rita Temple. I grew up in Houston, Texas, but I have now relocated to New York City â€¦ I am stunning. Believe me, this is not narcissism on my part. Of course, I love myself, and I bet most women want to be me. If I were not me, I would definitely want to be. I am that awesome. I am fifty shades of amazing. Now, enough about my amazing personality and off the charts beauty. I work as a fitness trainer at a gym in Manhattan. My job is one that I endure, but I work mainly with women and most of them pay good money to find someone who will browbeat them into staying in shape. Some of them go as far as scheduling home sessions with me. While this job pays good money, enough money to allow me to keep a superior loft and buy a BMW, it doesnâ€™t leave much time to meet the type of man I want to date. I couldnâ€™t cut down my working hours; I had to find a way to get the kind of person I wanted without compromising my job. Therefore, I registered on a dating site to find a man for whom sports is as important as it is for me. I have always wanted to be in a relationship with a man who takes fitness as seriously as I do. I imagined a beautiful relationship where we would go on hikes together and work out in the same gym. I put up a profile using one of my best photo as the display picture. It was an unusually sultry one. My long black hair framed my face. I wore light makeup as always, and showed my washboard abs to perfection. I knew it wouldnâ€™t be long before someone was interested. I put up a profile and described the qualities I wanted in a prospect. As expected, someone indicated an interest in my profile within a couple of hours. He sent a message and I checked out his profile. His name was Boris, and his profile picture looked exactly like what I was looking for. He had the crew cut blonde hair and green eyes that I like in a man. He wore a blue T-shirt over a pair of jeans and the shirt displayed his well-toned body to advantage. I wanted to meet this guy. We began to chat and it turned out he was pretty funny, too. He seemed absolutely perfect, and I was excited. After chatting for about a week and having gotten to know each other to an extent, we made plans to meet in the food court of a shopping mall. I saw him from afar, and I was so excited. He walked up to me and gave me a really tight hug. â€œHey babe, itâ€™s great to finally meet you.â€ â€œHi Boris, the pleasure is all mine,â€ I replied. I was really intrigued by him. I thought, wow, this is a real man! I could see from his firm but delicious hug and the muscles I felt that he definitely wasnâ€™t relaxing in the fitness room. Hombre was built! Every muscle was perfectly defined, and I got the distinct impression that he must have a yearly ticket to the tanning salon. His skin had the perfect tan. That type of tan didnâ€™t come from the sun. I was starting to daydream about all the fun we were going to get to have together if things worked out between us. We found a seat and just smiled at each other, then he threw his car keys on the table between us. My eyes had widened for a split second before I controlled myself. It was the ignition key to a Porsche Cayenne. This man must be loaded! I was getting more interested in him by the second. Soon, the waitress came around, â€œGood afternoon. What can I get for you?â€ Boris replied, â€œIâ€™ll have a protein shake, thank you.â€ I smiled to myself; as expected, he was staying healthy. That was just like the fitness buff I was expecting. This man was not going to disappoint me. The waitress turned to me and I ordered cherry juice. Then he began a story that was very warped, real, annoying, and at the same time intriguing. â€œI have not had a girlfriend for two years now,â€ he said. â€œThree years ago, I had a girlfriend. She was a beautiful black girl. Her name is Natasha. She was just eighteen and was so very stunning. I loved to spoil her and I wanted to show her a great time, so I travelled with her to Switzerland. I wanted to show her the amazing blue lakes surrounding the scenically high mountains covered with sparkling white snow. I showed her the high-priced villas, the glamorous hotels and the fancy designer cars of their clients. Wealth was observable everywhere in the country. In this unimaginable paradise, I managed to find a job for my Natasha. She became a nightclub hostess.â€ I was confused. That was a job description? It must have shown on my face, because Boris hastily described what he meant. He waved a hand in the air and said, â€œIn Switzerland, they donâ€™t call things what they really are. They are really fond of euphemism over there.â€ Oh, ohhh. The wheels turned in my head, and I understood what he was talking about. I got it then. Of course, a nightclub hostess means an executive escort. â€œYes, indeed,â€ I said and smiled tightly at him. â€œThis was a gorgeous job, darlingâ€™ â€¦ she earned 5000 Swiss francs for me per month. I have always dreamt about a Porsche Cayenne and with her help, I was able to make the deposit. I could take it from the dealer immediately. I think it was the happiest day of my life.â€ He smiled widely at this and I could see that he was really proud of the Porsche and probably couldnâ€™t imagine losing it. I was bummed. This was a really strange situation. I had gone down to that food court for a date and there I was, listening to the fairy tale of a body builder. It was surreal and a little annoying. It was also quite impressive, so I let him continue. I was curious and wanted to see where the story would end â€¦ â€œTwo years ago,â€ he continued, â€œsomething changed. She stopped sending me money. Natasha had fallen in love with an Italian drug dealer and everything started to collapse. I began to have financial problems and I couldnâ€™t pay back the loan I took out on the carâ€. I stared at him in wonderment. What type of man was this? What do his troubles have to do with me? This was supposed to be a date, not a session with a therapist. At this point, I noticed a teardrop roll down his face. Lord! I was curious about something. â€œHow did you spend the last two years?â€ I asked him. He looked at me for a long time, stretched his legs out and relaxed back into his seat. â€œI was in prison.â€ My brain didnâ€™t register the words at first because of the way he had said them as easily and smoothly as you would tell a friend â€œI was on holidayâ€, or â€œI was taking a vacationâ€ or something like that. I was still trying to ruminate on this when I heard a loud wail. I looked up, and was startled out of my wits to see him crying loudly. A grown man that looked the way he did crying like that? It was pathetically hilarious as well as the most ironic thing I had ever seen. â€œI need help, Rita, darling,â€ he said then, while staring intently at me. I was confused, really confused at this point. How the hell could I help this man-child? The next moment, he said: â€œThe bank will take my Porsche away! I really do not want to lose it. Please help!â€ I was perplexed. He kept on staring while I looked around the food court with the hope that he wasnâ€™t attracting attention. I was wrong, people were staring. I couldnâ€™t blame them. I would stare if I were in their position too. After a while, he finished crying, looked straight into my eyes and asked a question I will never forget: â€œDo you want a good job in Switzerland?â€ My immediate thought was, You gotta be kidding me! He was not joking. His face was as serious as it could be, and I was mortified and angry at the same time. Well, I wanted a fit man and got him alongside several other packages that I definitely was not interested in. I stared at him with wonder for a few minutes while he looked at me with great expectation showing on his face. I then quietly picked up my bag and walked out of the place. I didnâ€™t need a good job in Switzerland, thank you very much. I learnt a valuable lesson that day. Some people are just on dating sites to meet gullible girls that they could offer â€œcareer opportunitiesâ€ to. Boris had definitely been one of those people. I laughed to myself as I headed back to my apartment. That had been an experience I wasnâ€™t counting on; however, it had not been totally unpleasant either. I still have my profile on the dating site, and I am still as sporty as ever. I hope to find the guy I am looking for in the nearest future, and, hopefully, he wonâ€™t offer me any career opportunity like the one Boris had suggested.