So, here’s the thing I’ve recently realized: I have a type. Which, honestly, is a weird thing to admit because I never thought I had one. I mean, people usually have types, right? Some like their partners tall, others like them funny, curly-haired, or with eyes that are so blue they make you question whether you’re actually staring into the depths of the ocean. And then there’s me. Apparently, my type is… people who are allergic to cats.
Yes, you read that right. I am somehow magnetically drawn to men who sniffle and sneeze at the mere thought of a cat. My last three relationships have consisted of me going from one allergic guy to the next, and I’m starting to think the universe is trying to send me a message.
For anyone who doesn’t know me, I am a huge animal lover. I’ve always had unique experiences with animals, especially cats. Picture me as the person who sees a stray cat in the street and immediately starts whispering sweet nonsense to it like I’m in some romantic fantasy novel and we’re about to share a dramatic embrace — except, you know, with a cat who may or may not have fleas. Cats, specifically, are like my spiritual guides. Karma is a cat purring on my lap because it loves me, and honestly, can you think of a better kind of love than that? If you can, don’t tell me — I don’t want to know. But apparently, that’s just too much for the men I date. It’s like the universe is laughing in my face, as it sends me from one allergic disaster to the next.
My last relationship ended in February 2024, and let me tell you, I was really in love with this guy. We were together for two years, and I honestly thought he might be the one. And then? He broke up with me over text. Yep, 2024 version of a gentleman, right? Ghosted me for four months with absolutely no explanation. He truly wasn’t like any other guy I’ve ever met, because even the scum will tell you that it’s not going to work out. But wait, here’s the kicker — he was allergic to cats.
The two guys I dated before him? Same thing. Both toxic, both allergic to cats. What are the odds? I mean, how is this even a pattern? Am I unintentionally dating allergy sufferers who can’t be in the same room as a furball without suddenly needing an inhaler? Apparently, yes.
As someone hesitantly attempting to re-enter the dating pool, I’ve met some lovely souls — but here’s the problem: They’re all allergic to cats. It’s like I’m cursed. Cursed to love cats and to only be attracted to people who can’t even look at a cat without sneezing like they’ve inhaled pollen, dust, and bad life choices all at once. It’s as though the universe is playing a cosmic joke on me: Sure, you love cats, but let’s see how much you really love them when you’re forced to choose between your cat and a guy who’s two minutes away from anaphylactic shock.
