Don't wanna be a cat dude.

Everyone has heard the jokes about a Cat Lady.  You know, the lady who lives alone and has a whole mess of cats?  When I picture a cat lady, I imagine a crazy and disheveled looking older lady who wears knit sweaters, has messy hair, no make-up, and probably smells awful as well.

After a quick shoulder and legs workout at the gym tonight with Ikaika, I came home and crashed.  I was walking like Frankenstein, and could barely lift my arms (because I did so many).

In case any of you are wondering, the resemblance is pretty uncanny.

After a quick shower, I headed upstairs to make a delicious taco dinner for one, which was delicious by the way.  As I finished eating, I realized that How I Met Your Mother airs on Monday night, so I hurried and pulled up the latest episode on my laptop.  My apartment was just a little chilly, so I put on a sweater, grabbed my fuzzy blanket, and stretched out on my awesome couch so I could watch my show.  Right about then, Sassy, who is Preslie's new cat in case you were wondering, jumped up on my lap as well.  I was fairly relaxed and content, and reached over to get a nice swig of apple juice.

That was when it happened.  That was when it hit me.

I have become a cat dude.

I'm 31, and I live alone, or at least when Preslie isn't here, that is.  I am wearing a sweater, I have a beard, and I am sipping  on juice minus the gin, and I have a cat.

WTF???

I immediately became self-conscious about this, and tried to rationalize that it wasn't so bad, because I only have 1 cat.  And I'm certainly not throwing cats at my neighbors or anything like that.  I'm still cool, right?  This isn't the start of the end for me, is it?  I'm not going to be alone forever, am I?

Who am I kidding?  I didn't think that much about it or even care for that matter.  I just watched another episode of How I Met Your Mother.