Must Love Dawgs

I've two dogs.

Bo is the younger, smaller of the two. He's a Poodle/Bichon cross. Bo is hyper, excitable, an attention hog, and therefore often annoying. At the same time he's very affectionate, sensitive, and always wants to be as close to me as possible. Bo comes running when called, follows me to the bathroom, and cuddles with me on the couch. When I'm sad he's right beside me trying to lick my face.



Sam is the older, bigger one. He's a pure Bichon Frise bred from a long line of champion show dogs. Sam is quiet, laid-back, independent, and often mistaken for a throw cushion. He barely stirs when called, unless it's time to eat. Sam ignores Bo (as much as anyone can ignore Bo) and rarely comes to me for affection. Sometimes I wonder whether he loves me at all or just tolerates me for the perks.


Even though I'm (usually) happy for Bo's constant companionship it's Sam's approval I so desperately crave. Bo loves everyone and is easy to win over with a belly rub. Sam is more discriminating, more aloof. Whereas I've almost become oblivious to Bo's persistent demands for attention I'm grateful for any shred of acknowledgement that Sam (so stingily) dishes my way. I'm more patient with Sam, will reign Bo in on the leash to keep pace with Sam's slow waddle instead of vice versa. I'll often go to Sam and crush him in a big hug, holding his wooly body to my chest (while Bo throws a jealous tantrum), only to watch him walk away as soon as I let go. Bo then swoops in, eager to pick up the pieces.

It occured to me that there's a parallel between my relationships with my dogs and those with my men. That is, as much as I appreciate 'Bo' types I prefer 'Sam' types, at least in the attraction stage. Don't get me wrong - I love both my dogs and I know that despite Bo's questionable loyalty and Sam's detached company they both love me, but there's something about Bo's neediness that turns people off. I've noticed my guests offering themselves to Sam and how their eyes light up when he quietly accepts their petting. Sam's got this playing-hard-to-get thing down. Sometimes he'll even sprint off as I'm getting ready to grab him proving that theory that anything you chase will indeed run away.

Sandy mused that her friend Jon, as well as Tim, Pat, The Boy, etc. are all Bo's. I know they like me and while I'm very nice to them I'm just not making too much of an effort, which hasn't seemed to deter any of them. (Kay would be proud of me.) Then there's Blind Date (AKA Hot Hockey Hunk) who's more of a Sam. I'm not pursuing HHH (refer to chase theory above) but I'd sooner drop whatever I'm doing to see him again over anyone else. He's raw, masculine, and totally appealing. A sexually-charged brute with a stick. Probably the dawg of all dogs. I guess women love dawgs the way men love bitches.

It's Raining Men

Hallelujah. OK, so it's more like a flood of biblical proportions. I'm thrilled, if a little confused. I mean, is it normal for one's social life to be so busy? And why me? Why now? Not to sell myself short or anything - obviously I'm a lovable gal - but it's so extreme that I have to ask myself whether it's happening for a reason. It follows years of loneliness and isolation during which my identity and self-esteem were non-existent. Was this what I was missing all along? Or am I just ready for it now? What am I supposed to learn and take away from these experiences?

The culmination of occurrences last night left me reeling. Sandy was over when at 8:50pm my phone rang. It was Blind Date. (I love that feeling - when you've really given up on someone and they call.) At 9:15 Sandy's friend Jon arrived. I'd met him on Saturday and he'd asked her about me so she invited him to join her at my place. 15 minutes later my phone rang again. It was Tim, a guy with whom I'd had dinner the night before. 20 minutes later my phone rings again! It was (potential stalker) Pat, who I thought I'd gotten rid of for good. I let it go to voicemail. Then just when I thought things couldn't get any more bizarre I got an email from The Boy, whom I hadn't spoken to in a while.

The number of people I've met, particularly in the last few months, has been pretty overwhelming, and there are still others I haven't even mentioned. Clearly not all are prospective boyfriends. I'd even go so far as to say I'm not interested in any romantically but maybe the point is for me to just have fun. Make new friends. Make up for lost time. Gain the confidence I was lacking so that I won't ever get stuck in an unhappy relationship again because I think no one else will love me. Sandy says she doesn't believe I used to live the miserable life I describe. Maybe I deserve this. Hell, I deserve this. I don't know how long it'll last but I'm going to enjoy every minute and not take it for granted cause who knows when the well will suddenly dry up.

Live And Learn

I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that my Blind Date - both the event and the person - were hot. The bad news is that we had little in common. The good news is that our chemistry more than made up for it. The bad news is that we haven't spoken since. The good news is that I had fun and learned something about myself in the process.

I knew as soon as we met that there was no potential for anything more than a good time, which was had by all, but unlike some girls I know, I realized that I'm just not OK with never hearing from the guy again. A courtesy call. An email. Something. I might still hear from him but it'll be alright if I don't. And I'm certainly not going to bother contacting him. What would be the point? It was (really) fun and we'll leave it at that. No regrets.

Blind Date

I hope not literally, although he could be cause I know nothing about him other than his name and the fact that he works with my friend MC, who'd shown him my picture and suggested that we hook up. And I've no idea what criteria she used to determine that we might be suited for one another because I haven't talked to her since. He called and asked me out for tonight. I felt it'd be rude to ask for a picture at that point so I just accepted, thinking that I'd manage to reach MC before the date itself. Now here we are, hours away from The Unveiling and she still hasn't gotten back to me.

Reasons I'm giving myself for going on this blind date:

1) I can say I've been on a real blind date.
2) I had nothing better to do tonight.
3) I'll have something to write about tomorrow.
4) He can't be a beast. Why would MC set me up with Moleman?
5) I trust MC who has relatively the same taste in men. (She's married.)
6) He could be a hottie.
7) I can suffer through a drink or two if he's not.
8) He knows what I look like so he's under more pressure than I am.
9) I know where MC lives and can kidnap her children if this turns out to be the date from hell.
10) I've got nothing to lose.

So here goes nothing.

Not In Denial

I'll tell you what's not happening.
I'm not missing Jay.
I'm not assuming that she's back in town.
I'm not remembering the last time we were together.
I'm not wondering whether he's thought about it too.
I'm not hoping there'll be a next time.
I'm not thinking that he was the best sex I've had in a while.
I'm not waiting for him to call.

Glad we got that cleared up.

You Had Me At Hello

Sandy came over last night with her friend Deb, whom I'd never met before. I'd guess Deb to be no shorter than 5'8, probably a size 12, and about average in the looks department but you'd never guess it by the way she carried herself. This woman was very confident and all (mostly male) eyes were on her as she strutted down the street. Her particular style kind of screamed Cheap Slut to me but it wasn't her style I admired but her assuredness. It put my own body-image issues into perspective.

As I was locking up my place so we could go for supper I heard some words being exchanged a few feet away. Turns out Deb had seen Penthouse Adonis, the guy upstairs who's married to my secret crush, as he was going into the building and had said 'Hi' to him. "And did he say hi back?" I asked, taken slightly aback by her boldness. Sandy said that he'd not only said hi he'd stopped in his tracks and given Deb a good look first.

Saying hi. To a total stranger. That you think is cute. I was impressed, especially since just earlier that afternoon I'd had A Moment with a guy who was walking by as I was on my street with my dogs. He was very cute and he smiled directly at me and I was too shy to smile back or hold his gaze. Deb was incredulous. Montrealers are generally very friendly. I'm sure all he needed was a little encouragement and I couldn't even give him that.

This was the second time that I shared a moment with a hot stranger. I'm seriously going to try not to let another prospect walk by without at least smiling back. I need to be proactive as opposed to reactive if I ever hope to go out with someone I'm actually interested in.

Call Me

Pat, that older guy from down the street with whom I had dinner a few weeks ago, left me a third message last night. I know I never should've agreed to go out with him in the first place but I clearly have trouble saying no judging the from the large number of dates I've gone on over the last year with guys I knew weren't my type. I'd initially thought that it was his age (confirmed to be 41) that turned me off but over dinner I realized that that wasn't it as I've been interested in men only slighter younger than him. He just didn't do it for me and so I decided that Pat would go the way of J4 and not be granted a second chance. No more pity dates.

He called back a day later and left a message asking to see me on the weekend. I called back when I knew he wasn't in and left a message saying I was busy ALL weekend, thinking that he'd get the hint (who doesn't have even a moment to spare all weekend?) He called again early this week. I screened and didn't return his call. He called again yesterday evening. I'm sorry but is consistently ignoring and not returning a person's calls not a clear enough indication of disinterest?? I knew a response was in order since I'll probably be running into him in the street before too long so I left him a message this morning apologizing for not getting back to him sooner as I had met someone. There. Tsk. Tsk. I really should learn how to play the Boyfriend Card to avoid getting myself in these situations.

But Pat's "aggressiveness" made me realize this: when I like a guy, I want him to call. I want him to be persistent. I wouldn't want him to wait the requisite 48 hours before calling me. In fact, if I really liked him and thought he liked me I'd be a little insulted if he waited 3 days before calling. Nothing makes a girl so happy as to hear from the guy she likes within 24 hours of a great date. She'll like him even more because of it. Everyone is so concerned with playing this game where you pretend you're not that interested that we've forgotten how good it feels when someone does something really romantic like calling you from the car after you've kissed goodnight. JP did that the first time we went out - called me from a payphone on his walk home to tell me he'd had a great time. I just about died I was so happy.

So here's my advice, to guys in particular: If you like someone (and think they like you) just CALL them as soon as you want to. If they like you they'll be thrilled and if they don't they'll at least be flattered. You can't go wrong. I wasn't into Pat but I still appreciated that he liked me enough to call so soon after our date. (It was the subsequent calls that annoyed me.) I don't know anyone who, if they already liked someone, would stop liking the person and deem them desperate for calling too soon. It tougher than it looks to find someone you're really into who's also into you so why waste time and potentially shoot yourself in the foot by pretending you're not that into each other when you are? We should all be so lucky, right?

Nice 'n Easy

I just found five grey hairs and promptly pulled them from my scalp. Hmph, who'm I kidding? They weren't grey, they were snow white, y'all. Growing old gracefully? I think not. The descent into senility begins.

Tattoos

I'd never wanted one before but perhaps it was more a matter of never seeing one that I liked enough to put on my own body. I've never been a fan of the flowering vines, butterflies or dragonflies that were so popular at one time. And, to be honest, I'd always considered my pain threshold to be childishly low until I was told otherwise during routine brazilian waxing sessions. I suppose if I can voluntarily grit my teeth through that a dozen or so times a year I can probably handle a tattoo needle. Maybe. Or maybe I'll just have to smoke a bag of weed before my appointment.

Jay described it more as discomfort, like pushing on a bruise, than pain but this was coming from a guy who likes to poke his bruises on purpose. Incidentally, Jay's tattoos are the nicest ones I've ever seen. They're very detailed and look like they've been airbrushed on. He suggested I visit his tattoo artist who just happens to work right around the corner. I've been advised to stick to fleshy areas and stay away from bony ones like ankles and fingers as these will hurt a lot more. Whichever region I choose I'd best be prepared to see my plan through to the very end. The last thing I want is to wimp out with only part of an outline complete. Once you start there ain't no goin' back.

Given my deep interest in astrology I've tentatively decided on the Virgo glyph:


And, if I can handle the pain I'll also like to acknowledge my Chinese Astrological counterpart (1978: Year of the Horse):


I assume that the horse head, because it is more intricate with a larger inked area, will be the more painstaking and thus painful of the two so even though I love it it might not be the best idea to start with this one. Anyway, Sandy and I are probably going to go and get tattooed together and since she's a Virgo too I think we're both going with the glyph. I think it'll be nice to be reminded of our experience together every time we look at it. It'll be our rite of passage.

The only questions that remain are where to get the tattoo(s) and in what color(s)? I think I'd like to get one on the back of my shoulder but not sure which image would look better there. I am open to suggestions as to a second location. I've heard that tattoos below the small of your back, sometimes referred to as "bookmarks", are now considered slutty/skanky when they used to be seen as sexy. So which is it, guys and gals? Sexy or slutty?

There are some choices color-wise as well. I think a black glyph would be fine since there's not much shading, and later fading, involved. The horse head might look nice in brown or red.

Not sure when or if Sandy and I are going to go through with this but if we do it'll probably have to be soon since we'll need to give our body art time to heal before summer's big reveal. I think I'm ready but if I think about it too long I might just chicken out (cause of the pain not the permanence) so maybe the best thing to do would be to Just Do It.

Love Hurts

But does it have to? I'd forgotten just how hard it is to break up with (someone you think is) the love of your life. In fact, "break up" probably isn't the right word for anything beyond a casual relationship. "Sever" or "amputate" may be more appropriate if it is to reflect the physical pain you feel after it's all said and done, not to mention the emotional anguish when you realize he's really gone even though he still feels a part of you like some kind of ghost limb.

I remember all of Mac's and my failed breakups throughout the years. I remember how my heart physically hurt in my chest every time, how desperate and alone I felt even though I often felt the same way when we were together. It's funny how you can be miserable in a relationship and long for it to end yet almost immediately after a breakup forget why you broke up in the first place, which inevitably leads to a - sometimes reluctant - reconciliation. When you stop wanting to be with someone and instead just wish it were easier to be without him you know it's time to move on.

Romantic fools, myself included, think that our love must somehow be truer if we can't live with or without someone. Suicidal thoughts must mean that you really love someone, right? Fighting like animals but then fucking like them could be true love, couldn't it? Passionately loving someone is the only way I want to love but I really believe now that passion can exist without pain. I don't think suffering lends any authenticity or necessarily adds any depth to a relationship. When I listen to Kay crying for the millionth time over Jake I think to myself and have repeated to her: he can't possibly be The One for you. No one should have to suffer like this for "love". If anything perpetual pain cheapens love.

I try not to take sides. I don't think Jake's The One for Kay simply because he's the cause of so much pain, not because he's a bad person. And I think she's unhappy because of her own insecurities, which Jake exacerbates, sometimes through no fault of his own, but it's not fair to make him suffer too because she doesn't feel secure enough with him but is scared to leave him. You can't mistake cowardice for love.

I often think about the events that led up to my emancipation. It was nothing unusual, in fact it was much the same thing. The proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, if you will, but I can't tell Kay how to do it because I stayed in my relationship almost 4 years longer than the point she's at right now. I hope it doesn't take her that long but it might cause it's not over till it's over. Every time I'd tried to leave the pain would bring me back but there was no pain this last time. It just made sense. It was a moment of clarity. I wasn't willing to wait anymore to see where the relationship could go or whether I'd even be happy when and if it ever got there. I remember thinking that I finally had the power to live my life instead of feeling like I was just a character in someone else's tragedy.

Kay and Jake have just broken up again. They had another one of their fights and broke up and as usual she thinks this time it'll stick. I know it won't but understand that she can't see it from where she's standing. I know that as long as they've been together and as much as they "love" one another they can't permanently break up because of some silly fight. The anger'll subside in an instant and just as quickly they'll be back together. If she really wants this to be over, and I think in her heart she does, she needs to make a conscious decision - no, a commitment - and just say: Enough is enough. This just isn't working anymore, as much as we want it to. I'm tired to hurting and tired of hurting you. I do love you. I'll probably always love you but I need this chapter of my life to be over. Thanks for the memories.

Yup, just like that.