He Smiled, Then He Bit Me.

I’m on my weekend morning walk, trying to undo the junk food I inhaled the night before, when a cat appears. Affectionate. Sultry. It follows me down the street, brushing up against anything and everything with full-body flirtation.

When I stop to pet it, it climbs into my arms like we’ve always known each other. At that moment, I am the chosen one. I am the cat whisperer.

I lean in with trust, offering affection in return. The feeling is mutual. I feel seen, loved, bonded. And, as always, I ignore the red flags, because; validation.

Then, without warning, the playful affection turns feral. BAM. Bite. Blood. Cold withdrawal.

I pick up the cat as it coils around me like a furry little demon, fully committed to the attack, before finally letting go. I’m left staring at my hand, confused and bleeding, wondering what I did wrong.

🤔 Classic case of unexplained rejection. 🕵️

But I’ve seen this before, and not just with cats, but with love interests. Or more accurately: situationships. That same pattern. The hot-and-cold. The affection that turns on you. The trauma responses dressed up as connection. The kind of emotional whiplash therapists say we chase because it reminds us of home.

You walk away from what felt like a perfectly good makeout session, emotionally bruised and Googling “why did he turn on me” and “cat bite infection symptoms” in the same night.

I still don’t know why he bit me. Or why he came on so strong, only to flip, claws out and fangs flaring, all before 8am.

But I do know this: next time someone follows me down the street acting like they love me, I’m keeping my hands to myself.

Though I will be petting that cat again next time I see it.

Until next Dispatch,
LGM