Felix and other things I am not into

Felix found his way to me, through unexpected channels. He's handsome. Well-mannered. Low-maintenance. Attentive. Sweet. Cleans up after himself. Everything a woman ever wanted in a male.
The only thing is: He's a cat. He's black and white. About 8 years old. He's living on my screened-in porch.
Problem is: I don't want a cat. Much like I don't want many things in my life right now. I am half-heartedly buying a house because I think it would be a good investment. I am half-heartedly on Match.com because honestly, I was having too much sadness and I thought a few good dates would cure that.
Instead, I got involved. I am feeling Felix work his way into my heart, much like Blue Eyes has.
Blue Eyes is fun, goofy, tall, young, curious, deceptively seductive.
And yet, he's not going to be my boyfriend. And he reminds me of my ex in that he's not being romantic with me. He's not sweeping me off my feet. He's, quite frankly, "just not that into me."
I am trying to figure out what I do to attract these men who are not very generous or romantic with me. I am not needy. I am very approving. I am fun. Maybe I need to be more generous with myself? Maybe I need to insist on the highest standard, which is: What makes me happy? And dispense with all the rest?
Maybe.
Felix: That may mean the end to you and me, baby. I just don't want your cat hair all over my furniture and rugs and in every nook and cranny of this old apartment. Call me strange, but I just don't want it. Please understand.
Blue Eyes, I probably like you more than you like me at this point, which could spell adios for us.
So, here's to only doing things that I want to do. And doing them with exquisite focus and power.
Meow.