At the risk of sounding like a "crazy cat lady", I think that maybe it's my cats that have ruined me for relationships. I was laying in bed when Mouse jumped up and settled down next to me. I petted him, and he began to purr. I told him I loved him very much, and though he didn't answer, I know he loves me.
He's not what you think of when you imagine the perfect roommate. I have to clean up after his poo, he makes a mess whenever he eats, he gets his hair all over everything I own, and he's quite fond of trying to see how much noise he can get a plastic bag to make at 5am when I'm trying to stay asleep for one more hour. He's a mooch, of course, eating food that I buy and visiting the vet annually at my expense, and contributing no income to the house.
I'm no perfect host, either. My travels take me away from him for days at a time occasionally, he's left alone for large swaths of each day while I'm at work, and I make him eat the same thing day in and day out ad infinitum. I've even stumbled over and sometimes stepped on him a few times.
Yet we love each other. For all our flaws and inadequacies, we have a bond that can't be broken. He doesn't judge me when I spend an entire day in my pajamas watching Sex and the City. When I have a bad day and finally get home to cry, he's there in an instant to nuzzle my cheeks and groom my bangs. And all he wants in return is for me to sit next to him and stroke his fur until he falls asleep.
Isn't that what we are all looking for in a life partner? Someone who, whatever their flaws and whatever our flaws, will curl up next to us at the end of the night and just be in love with us?
