Further Musings on Canines

Funny that you should bring up the topic of dogs because that is exactly what I wanted to write about. I love dogs. In fact, I have one. A golden retriever. All of us in the household love her. She's wonderful but she can be a real bitch too - typical. However, this post isn't about her. It's about women and dogs.

Dogs have been a regular part of my life. When I was a kid my father had guard dogs - two Doberman Pinschers. One day when my younger son was about five he asked me what their names were and I couldn't remember. I wanted to give him a image and something to remember so after a short pause I said Leftie and Rightie. I had to call my Dad after that and explain to him that if Son #2 ever asks him about the our dogs that he needed to say that their names were Leftie and Rightie. Those have been the names ever since.

I also had dogs when I was married - two in fact (dogs not marriages). The black lab died after six years. His death was one of the many stress factors that killed our marriage. The other dog I lost in the divorce. She got the dog and I got the kids. I think I got ripped off. All she has to do is feed the dog, walk the dog and brush his coat once in a while. I, on the other hand, am left with two teenage boys high on hormones, girls, sex, drugs, beer, and junk food. Parenting them is like dancing in a nest of vipers - terrifying and painful. And worry? God, I've never worried so much in my life. 

But I digress. Let me get to the topic of this post: dating women with dogs. 

Two of the women I dated recently have dogs. As I said, I love dogs but I have a bias toward big dogs. Little yappy mutts really bother me. Let me give you an example. Fenn (from about a year ago) has one of these rat-sized things that she called a dog. Truth be told, it is because of this feral beast that I never made it to the bedroom with her. I never got a chance. The barriers, partially dog and partialy woman, were insurmountable. 

The first barrier was that Fenn is very religious - a real prude. I should have known that scoring a home run was just a fantasy. But there were other barriers. The second barrier was that she foamed at the month. I'm serious. She would start talking and a bit of white foam would appear at the corner of her mouth. One would think that this shouldn't be a problem but it was incredibly distracting. Literally, I couldn't consentrate on what she was saying - all I could think about was, "God woman, clean up your act, lick your lips once in a while," or" Don't you know you're foaming at the mouth," or "Shit, I hope she doesn't have rabies." 

Although, mouth foam was a problem, it was resolvable. If I closed my eyes I was't so distracted. The clincher for ending our short relationship was Ruffy or whatever her dog's name was. This dog wouldn't stop barking and licking. It barked at the moon, at cars driving by, at the wind, at the neighbors, and at me. I don't think I'm much different from other people - I don't like dogs barking at me. But I'm also 50 years old - I figured I could handle it. Consequently, I decided to not let the barking bother me. I figured that I would just ignored the stupid mutt. It was annoying but never mind - I'm fine. Besides I want some good lovin'. 

But this dog was intrusive and that is what did me in. Fenn and I were in the living room. Remember we couldn't be in her bedroom because that might lead to ... Lord save us - sex. Fenn has finally got the mutt to stop barking.  We are lying on the floor - kissing. That is all we are doing - kissing. My eyes are closed so that I'm not distracted by the foam - I just lap it up. 

Then all of a sudden Ruffy starts licking my feet. I jumped clean off the floor and nearly choked on a mouth full of foam. Eventually, Fenn calms the dog down and we start kissing again - still in the living room and still on the floor. Just as I'm getting my nerve back the dog starts nuzzling my hair and he's licking Fenn's hair too. The strange thing is that she doesn't seem to mind. She thinks this is "cute" and carries on kissing. But to me this is just too bizzare. I not impressed and I'm not having a good time.

What really pissed me off was that Fenn babed this dog and let the thing do whatever it wanted.  All I wanted to do is swat the beast. I didn't but I've lost my motivation and any level of performance is gone. I give up. I fake a yawn and complain about how tired I am, then make a quick exit. 

I'll save the next dog story for the next post.

Cocktale

The Dog Whisperer

I can certainly understand your predicament. You know me – come on, I am a sucker for a pretty face. I have even had entire relationships destined to fail from the start over washboard abs and a little bit of arm candy.

Everyone wants to be with that person who walks in the room with the jaw dropping factor. Certainly, you and I are not any exceptions to this rule. To be truthful, I have done very well in this department in the past – come on, I married a gay man!!

He took countless hours to impeccably style his hair in the morning. This routine sometimes lasted upwards of an hour. He would iron or dry clean everything down to his underwear and t-shirts. His shoes would be glowing any time he left the house. I have to tell you –he made it look easy to look good, but it was a daily process that involved at least 3 outfit changes, a temper tantrum and an extra 2-3 hours in the bathroom.

My past lovers have also been quite attractive and could also be defined as metro sexual or even in some other cases as entirely homosexual. I have noticed a trend and am working hard on figuring out an alternative approach to dating (more on this later). In the past I had been happy to be arm and arm with:

- Chad – a very beautiful make-up artist trying to discover himself
- Rob – a bi-curious man with a fetish for leather pants (I ran into him at a bar several years later only to discover he was still wearing the same leather pants. They fit, but my first question to myself is how you go about washing such an article of clothing)
- TM – he was absolutely stunning! His beautiful body, gorgeous face made him a magnet for both men and women a like. Unfortunately he had some serious performance issues. I suspect this issue may have been due to his third testical (I am not even kidding).
- Anatol – my gorgeous German lover who was convinced he was in love with me after a few months of traveling together in turkey
- Emilio – my handsome salsa dancing doctor
- Neil – a confessed in the closet, supremely confused gay man with a propensity for cocaine. He was the spitting image of a younger Jude Law.
- KK – of course we can’t forget my ex husband

So this brings me to my current predicament with The Dog Whisperer (DW for short). You know what is entertaining about your issue with Pickle, is that I have a very similar predicament of my own with DW. His pseudonym fits him perfectly – he has an innate ability to communicate, but unfortunately his looks, in my personal opinion, would be classified and almost dog-like. OMG, that was mean! I don’t want to be this shallow and awful about this situation, as I really like the man, but unfortunately, we too have our issues.

What I adore about DW:
- He is a perfect gentle man – oh yes he opens doors, picks up the bill and becomes a handy man when required
- He is spontaneous – he took me to a shoe store and pretended to be the sales guy to get me to crack a smile
- He makes me laugh – see spontaneity above
- He pushes me to express myself emotionally– this is something that I rarely do now a days as generally I don’t get too attached or feel too much
- He is very well cultured – ok, ok, I am a sucker for accents and he has a great eastern European one that can make me melt over the phone
- He is quite wealthy – his shower is the size of my bedroom!!! I am not generally concerned about wealth as I do fairly well on my own, but there is something about walking into a place, stepping out of a gorgeous car (he opens the door of course), and stepping into a room.
- He can dance – OMG, I love a man who can dance. His Latin dancing skills are a little unreal.
- He is exceptionally smart
- He is not gay!!! In fact, he is borderline homophobic, but I guess any man with no homosexual tendencies is a step in the right direction for me at this point, so I will consider this a positive for now.
- He is absolutely unbelievable in bed – oh yes, oh yes, OMG, oh yes!!!

Sounds like a perfect match doesn’t it? One would think, I would be tripping over myself to reel this one in, but no such luck. In fact, I have spent weeks trying to avoid the man and get out of any sort of commitment what so ever. What is my problem? Well, he looks like a dog whisperer. I have to close my eyes when we go to bed, I can’t hold his hand in public and I’m always super paranoid that someone I know will see us together.

So, in short, I can relate to your dilemma entirely. I want to like him, I want to fall in love, but I don’t think I can or know how to tell you the truth. I am way to rational a person to dive and go blind (maybe that would help in this case).

I am still holding out for perfection. I agree with you, we are the entire package – attractive, smart, adventurous, successful, so why can’t we find all of those same characteristics in a single package.

I want it all! I am waiting for the entire list! Does this mean I will spend the rest of my life on the sidelines hoping for something to happen? Or will my selection criteria eventually pay off and will I ride off into the sun set with the perfect partner? These are all questions I’m currently struggling with as are you at the exact same moment.

The other question that has reared it’s ugly head is are my expectations too high. Before my divorce, I was not so fascinated by perfection and plagued by the fear of failure. Could this new behaviour be an excuse to not commit and stay single? I don’t have answers just yet, but I’m guessing we will discover them together!

Chutney