We often hear someone described as a “catch” by their friends or partners, or self-proclaimed in their online personals dating free online dating site, but what is it that defines a person’s “catch-ness”? Honestly, the expression makes me think of a cold in winter, or conversely taking a fly ball in baseball, and I don’t think that either would have been the original intention. This week the gods apparently decided to teach me a more literal meaning behind the label.
I was walking down the mall, minding my own business, pondering my newfound singledom etcetera, etcetera, when all of a sudden a blur of human form came barreling out of nowhere. With our compounded yells, down we tumbled onto the pavement. My immediate reaction was to spring up and start beating the offender with my clutch, but on second glance, I became suddenly incapable of anything other than a very good imitation of a fish (gape gape gape).
In my arms, was an Apollo god, I kid you not. No amount of chemistry online dating could have given an online dating photo justice for him. Right down to the sandy blonde hair and electric blue eyes that could sear into your soul. Unfortunately, all they were searing into at the moment was my chest, because of the way we fell. It was a clandestine meeting!
We rose to our feet and a grunt of, “Sorry,” escaped from his perfect lips. My fish impression turned into a seal with an eloquent, “Uh-huh, uh,” and he turned around and started to walk away. I stared after him, wondering how someone so beautiful could be so blind as to our clearly fated meeting. Sadly, I think I missed the ball on this one.
But then, I realized, I had found the catch-22 in finding a catch. Had I been witty and flirtatious and all things that I wish my fish impression had demonstrated, what if my catch had still responded merely with a grunt and a quick escape? As much of a catch as he was, at least I wouldn’t run the risk of batting a fly ball. In my online dating comparison, Apollo is what we would call a fish online dating. No catch.
I was walking down the mall, minding my own business, pondering my newfound singledom etcetera, etcetera, when all of a sudden a blur of human form came barreling out of nowhere. With our compounded yells, down we tumbled onto the pavement. My immediate reaction was to spring up and start beating the offender with my clutch, but on second glance, I became suddenly incapable of anything other than a very good imitation of a fish (gape gape gape).
In my arms, was an Apollo god, I kid you not. No amount of chemistry online dating could have given an online dating photo justice for him. Right down to the sandy blonde hair and electric blue eyes that could sear into your soul. Unfortunately, all they were searing into at the moment was my chest, because of the way we fell. It was a clandestine meeting!
We rose to our feet and a grunt of, “Sorry,” escaped from his perfect lips. My fish impression turned into a seal with an eloquent, “Uh-huh, uh,” and he turned around and started to walk away. I stared after him, wondering how someone so beautiful could be so blind as to our clearly fated meeting. Sadly, I think I missed the ball on this one.
But then, I realized, I had found the catch-22 in finding a catch. Had I been witty and flirtatious and all things that I wish my fish impression had demonstrated, what if my catch had still responded merely with a grunt and a quick escape? As much of a catch as he was, at least I wouldn’t run the risk of batting a fly ball. In my online dating comparison, Apollo is what we would call a fish online dating. No catch.







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