“Your Cat Is Disgusting” & Other Reasons I’ll Never Meet My Husband On Tinder
Guys hate cats. I get it. More specifically, guys hate women with cats. Ew, so gross, those Cathy Comic women covered in hair with crochet blankets draped over all the furniture and soggy tea bags lining the counters of their kitchens. What a disgusting population, left swipe. But somehow picking up fresh dogshit off a public sidewalk with your bare hand sheathed in thin plastic is totally acceptable. Mkay.
I awoke this morning to a “super like” on Tinder, whateverthechrist that means, and reviewed his profile. He literally said “your cat is disgusting.” Not to me, mind you—to all women. He made it clearly known in his profile that if you’re going to adopt a homeless animal, it better bark, not meow.
I don’t have a picture of my cat in my Tinder profile. Of course I don’t. I know I’m going to die alone but I don’t feel the need to gild the lily. For years my mother has stressed the importance of not mentioning my cat on dates, and for years I’ve swiped through countless men that are very up front in their feline hatred. Cats are four-legged dating Kryptonite, everyone knows this.
But here’s the thing: fuck your cat aversion and the Golden Retriever it rode in on. Cats are amazing. Cats are great company. Most importantly, cats are self sufficient and dogs are high maintenance assholes. Fight me.
I don’t understand how people can write off those who’ve welcomed an animal into their home for companionship and snuggles on species alone. People think it’s bullshit that I read my horoscope but somehow making decisions about an entire personality can be compressed down to whether they’d rather have a dog or cat? Seems fair.
I also find it cute how one rotten cat can spoil the whole species, but any time you meet a dog who’s an insufferable shit you can’t take to the park without incurring a lawsuit, there are all of these highly specific reasons and backstories that explain the behavior away and isolate it to this animal only. “Oh he’s a rescue, from a very bad situation—his reactions are a product of his abuse and this isn’t his fault.” My cat got knocked up while living on the streets of Chicago but one false hiss and it’s “ugh, I hate cats.” Sure Jan.
Today is National Cat Day, so Twitter informs me, but those of us who live with felines know that every day is a celebration of the love and purrs we get to enjoy. There’s no number of judgmental douchebags on Tinder who’d likely ghost me anyway that could get me to change who I am or who shits in a box in my bathroom. My household, my business.
But sure, go ahead and lay your small mindedness out on the Tinder table, I really don’t mind. I’ll just be here, sipping tea and watching Netflix, while you take Rex out for a poop in a blizzard.
The truth is that men making assumptions about women based on their choice of animal aren’t putting women in a pigeonhole, they’re only hurting their own options. Because it’s judgmental thinking like this that tells me more about a guy than his taste in pets ever could. I know he thinks he can tell women how to be, I know he’s an arrogant tool, and I know I’ll never have to spend my time with someone so disgusting. I have better company at home.