Kitty Literate: Volume One
By Kitty Martin
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About this ebook
"Kitty Literate: Volume One" is a collection of short stories and poetry, partially inspired by real-life events. In the vein of David Sedaris, the short stories are meant to put a smile on your face and entertain. Any effects of enlightenment or inspiration are purely coincidental and not necessarily the intent of the author.
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Kitty Literate - Kitty Martin
KITTY LITERATE
VOLUME ONE
KITTY MARTIN
KITTY LITERATE: VOLUME ONE.
Kitty Martin
Copyright 2012 by Kitty Martin
Smashwords Edition
CONTENTS
Dragon versus Tiger
The Narcissist
Dragon Dismisses Tiger
If You Don’t Have Something Nice to Say...
Unhappy Endings
Rejection
Incompatible.com
Forgiveness
Name-dropping
Number
Not-So-Secret Service
For Marion
Debbie Downer
Overheard
Just Desserts
Connection
Singularity
The Kiss
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Family members, good friends, and even strangers have contributed to the creation of these stories. But I would especially like to thank my fellow word nerd Anthony Barounis for his editorial eye, technical assistance, cover art and way with words.
You don’t need a lot of face time to be great friends.
Chuck Foster
DRAGON VERSUS TIGER
Beware the fiery Dragon, prowling Tiger. I am mystical, magical, worshipped, and revered. You leap and pounce and have clawed your way to the top. You work and play without a net, but I am a Chinese acrobat. You marvel at my flexibility and feats of intimate daring. My body stays still but my tail twitches and my eyes follow your every move. You could change your stripes, but you don’t. You see no need. You slink and bounce along powerfully, so comfortable in your skin, walking that fine line between confidence and arrogance, which I find so disarmingly attractive. I am entranced by the glow of your Leo fire. I must use my circus skills to balance my Libra scales. The light of your sun guides you brightly through your days; the glimmer sparkles through our nights. I close my eyes and breathe you in so deeply when usually I incinerate others with my regal flame. Paws and tails and manes clutch and tangle, intertwining past and present, reality and myth. Stars above, heat below. It is not a contest, but is this real? It has only been a week.
THE NARCISSIST
Have you ever dated a narcissist? It’s super terrific! Just ask the narcissist. He’ll constantly tell you how great he is, how lucky you are to be with him, and by God, how much fun you’re having!
He’ll also tell you if you have one eyebrow out of place: Ew! That looks wonky!
; if you’ve worn the same autumn jacket more than two days in a row, even though it’s still autumn and it’s a really nice jacket; and will abandon you in the subway at midnight—on your first date—because his train arrives first and he wants to go home to sleep.
A really skilled narcissist will conceal his true self in the beginning, so that you’ll be confused as to whether he’s remarkably confident or outrageously arrogant. Well, except for that subway abandonment; that was pretty clear. Anyway, the less advanced narcissists lay it all out there from the start. When I was using an internet dating service, I received this profile from a 63-year-old-man: Single man searching for smart, sensual, stylish woman who is a size 6.
At least the hordes of interested size 4s and 8s in their 30s and 40s (the age group he was after) knew they didn’t stand a chance.
I don’t know what woman would even still be reading past that intro, but for the few low self-esteemers who forged on, they were treated to this: I may need to change my contact lens prescription, but when I look in the mirror, I see a pretty damned good-looking guy! My mother always said I was her handsome son. Looking for an age-appropriate woman (ha!) who feels the same way about herself.
The guy could have used some editing. Maybe something like, Narcissist seeks slightly less narcissistic narcissist who must not be as pretty as me.
Then there’s the helpful narcissist who will tell you which movie star he most closely resembles. One 40-something man told me, Everybody tells me I look exactly like Alec Baldwin. My mother even cried once when she was watching one of his movies and his character died, because she couldn’t stop thinking it was me up there on the screen.
*************************
I dated The Narcissist for exactly four weeks. He’d tell you they were the best four weeks of my life.
I’d tell you they were four weeks of my life.
But we had some fun, he paid for everything and he was good-looking. I think narcissists have to be good-looking; otherwise it would just be too sad to make fun of all the ridiculous things they say.
I don’t know about all narcissists, but The Narcissist was a mass of contradictions. He also knew everything there was to know about everything, and he was the best at everything from cooking to computers to snowboarding. To his credit, his job required him to be at the computer every day. But he only cooked for me twice. The first meal was Eggs Benedict, which was good, but needed some salt. But before I could ask for any, he told me that all people used way too much salt when they cooked, which was why he never used any. I didn’t have the energy to explain that people use salt because it’s a flavor enhancer. The second meal was tasteless, uninspired, everything-out-of-a-box-or-can paella, which—you guessed it— needed salt.
As far as snowboarding, skateboarding or any other physical activity at which The Narcissist was supposedly Olympic material, the most I ever saw him do was walk. It was early October when I suggested that we go kayaking on our second date. He said he couldn’t, because he was recovering from a torn-rotator cuff, which he’d gotten playing ice hockey. I said, Wow, that happened last winter and it’s still bothering you?
He said, No, it happened in college.
He was 49.
The Narcissist told me in late October that he was thinking of joining a gym, where he could get a complete cardio and strength-training workout in a mere 15 minutes: five minutes of some sort of weigh-lifting, which made no sense when he was explaining it, and 10 minutes of running on a treadmill. Though he admitted to not having exercised in two months, he swore he could not only pull off a five-minute mile, he could do two five-minute miles back-to-back.
I’m a runner, albeit, an average one. But I know what’s considered a good time. So when I said that a five-minute mile was really fast—like Boston Marathon fast—he just stared at me blankly and said, Yeah, I know. So?
I was going to suggest that he might need to get back in shape again before he could whip off a few of those five-minute miles. And then there was that rotator-cuff injury he’d been nursing for nearly 30 years. But then I thought better of it. It’s very exhausting to try to reason with a narcissist, so pick and choose your battles wisely.
Speaking of health and fitness, The Narcissist told me, I stopped drinking beer at home. That’s how I lost 10 pounds.
But the thing was, he did drink beer at home. Every time I went to his house, there were beer cans all over his desk, beers cans overflowing from the trash. He even had six-packs of beer on the top shelf of his closet, which turned out to be a red flag I wish I’d paid more attention to at the time.
The Narcissist was also convinced that none of his cognitive skills had ever or would ever decline in any way. I was bartending during our four-week courtship, and he liked to remind me numerous times what a great waiter he’d been during college. I have no