Winner of the PWR 2 Webby: To All You Forty-Something Female Cat-Owning Spinsters Out There, Let’s Get Grinding: A Review of “Grindr”.

You know you’ve reached a critical stage in your life when your 17 cats look up at you from their bowls of catnip and broken dreams with eyes that say, “You really need to get yourself a date.”

When my precious feline friends first confronted me, I was initially angry and confused. After 25 years of living sans gentlemen callers and only leaving the condo every Tuesday at 2 pm for a grocery and cat food run, why now my darling babies? Why look at me with a gaze of innocence and question, completely out of the blue, and question the lifestyle I’ve maintained for two and a half decades? What have I done to instill this worry in your minds? What about the life I lead concerns you?

After a Cats: The Musical Marathon, hours of soul searching, and 15 minutes of When Harry Met Sally (It was just too much for me. Are they friends or what? Why does it have to be so complicated?), it came to me. A possible solution. The internet. I got on my computer and researched. I regret having started my search with questions like, “My cats are telling me I need a man. What is wrong with them?” If anyone out there needs a number for a psychiatric facility, just hit me up. I’ve been offered complimentary stays at all of them North of the Mason Dixon Line.

But computers are pretty smart these days. Fairly quickly, it picked up on my dilemma. Before I even realized it myself, my computer had figured that even though I wouldn’t admit it, my cats were right. I wanted to break into the dating scene and my internet indulgence was a subconscious cry for help. Pretty soon I was being led to blogs, chat rooms, and online encyclopedias, soaking up all the information about dating in the 21 century.

And then, eureka. The goddess divine that is Wikipedia brought me to the solution. Grindr. For those of you darling readers, who like me, are living in denial, suffocating under a mountain of cat litter and nostalgic thoughts from your pre-school days when boys actually wanted you to play with them on the jungle gym, listen up. Grindr is a program that one can install into one's phone and-well, actually, I’m a little unsure of how is works. I mean, my phone has one of those fancy dials and is mounted to a wall (a birthday present from an antique store from Fluffy) so would I have to them plug it into my computer (?), I mean I don’t know. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, on to the point! This program is like a mini condensed dating site. When you pull it up, hundreds of profiles of singles appear. And this part works by “geolocation,” so the profiles you see on your “home page” are organized by who lives the closest to you! How convenient!

And this, ladies, is the best part. All of the profiles I’ve seen so far have been men! AND not a single fun loving twenty something bar maid with blonde hair to compete for their affection! Gosh they must be SO bored! All dressed up with nowhere to go and no one to go with.

C’mon gals. Lets infiltrate Grindr and give all these eligible, good-looking males something to get excited about. As soon as we flood the “grinding” scene with our mature manners of seduction that only come with age and a lifestyle of seclusion (like fine wine in the bottom of a cellar) I guarantee we will be received with open arms and hearts by the array of strapping young gentlemen “grinders” and Fluffy, Mr. Fuzzles, Sir Tubbington, Fifi, Georgie, Mittens, Butternut, Whiskers, Sissy, Pickles, Carlos, Snuffles, Cupcake, Waffles, Puddles, Binks, and Billy Crystal will finally be able to eat their cat nip in peace.