‘Dog Boy’ is flirty and fun in his emails and after a few days of banter, asks me to dinner. He suggests sushi for Friday night and after my last date with Mashed Potato Head at TGIF’s, he gets a bonus point. On the morning of our dinner date, he asks if we can instead meet for coffee. Said bonus point gets retracted. I ask why and he offer, “Let’s see how it goes and then maybe we can grab dinner afterwards.”
Right. He wants me to audition. It’s the ‘do you look like your online pictures, but I would never judge you based on looks, but I need to make sure you look good’ kind of thing. I can’t resist a little in your face buddy, so I throw on a sexy dress and heels, pouf the hair, do the makeup, and apply an extra spritz of the good perfume…for coffee.
I drive up to Starbucks right at five and spot him sitting outside. I guess he’s waiting for me before going in? I watch him for a bit from my car, a little surveillance never hurts. He’s reading a paperback and seems normal enough. I mean, he doesn’t have two heads and he's actually cute!
I wonder about the coffee switchero move but figure he’s been burned before. It happens. I showed up to a date once with a man who lied about his age…by 19 years. He didn’t even acknowledge the ‘error’ until I tactfully brought it up while trying to minimize my slight shock and absolute horror. He said I would never have agreed to meet him since he’s out of my preferred age range. I explain that would have been my prerogative. This needs an explanation?
He brushes off my prerogative with a laugh and orders a bottle of champagne. Oh, bubbles! In that case, all is forgiven and here are my panties. I ask bluntly if he would date an 80-year-old woman. He bellows and immediately chortles “No way!” I stare blankly at him waiting to see if he’s capable of the point, or the math. He tries to change the subject by telling me all about how young at heart he is, but I insist he instead tell me what 61 plus 19 equals. I say I have no problem with older men, but I do have a problem with liars, slug back the glass of champagne, and leave.
Back at the Starbucks. After a few minutes, I saunter up the parking lot to the patio. Yep, saunter. Dog Boy drops his jaw and visibly begins to twitch. He jumps up, blurts out ‘Hi, I’m Kevin!’ and immediately asks if I’m hungry, would I like to go to dinner, and let’s go…all in rapid fire succession as I’m introducing myself. I say, “Let’s start with coffee.”
He falls over himself apologizing for ever suggesting coffee and offers to go inside and get whatever I would like. Too bad we’re not at Tiffany’s. He comes back outside, lattes in hand, and starts fast talking. He shyly explains that sometimes his online dates show up and don’t exactly look like their pictures. I wink and remark how hot my coffee is as I blow seductively and sip with glossy pursed lips.
So, why the nickname Dog Boy you wonder? Well, Dog Boy brought his dog to our lil coffee date. A big, hairy, slightly smelly dog who has been trying to make out with me since I walked up. Now, I love dogs as much as the next gal, but is this cool? He certainly didn’t warn me, suggest it, or consider my take on the matter. What if I were deathly afraid of dogs or allergic or felt slobber, fur, and wet dog smell didn’t go with my outfit?
I ask hypothetically how would we have gone to dinner with his dog. He jokingly says “Dog? What dog?” but I’m not laughing and then he offers to drop the dog off at his home. I ask why would he bring a dog unless we were in a park or doing something where the added company might be appropriate. He says sometimes his dates don’t show up so he brings a book and his dog for company. Sigh.
He’s sweet and earnest and a bit rumpled, Kevin that is. Speaking of dogs, I sense he’s the puppy dog type which unfortunately , I’m a sucker for. But damn, it’s hot and sticky outside and I would much prefer being inside like everyone else as I notice we’re the only idiots out in this humid broiler of a parking lot. But the dog is cute and does that adorably irresistible head from side to side thing where it looks like they’re asking you a question. He’s asking me what’s the big deal and look how cute I am. I relent, dodge the still insistent tongue…of the dog, not Kevin, and try to make conversation. And then, as if on cue, it begins to rain which I know immediately is God and his cronies ribbing me on another one of my famous dates.
The kicker, as if I needed one, is that Dog Boy is completely and possibly inappropriately in love with his dog. I’m not sure if he’s trying to date me or the dog. He hugs and kisses the dog repeatedly, remarks “Oh, he likes you!” when the dog sniffs my privates, and has the dog sit on his lap. It’s a big dog. He then starts baby talking and wrestling the dog which makes the dog even more hyper which Dog Boy seems to enjoy and encourages with a repeated “Good boy, good boy, that’s my boy!”
As they’re French kissing on the patio, dog slobber flying, he tells me, “Dude, I love my dog.” I’m not sure what is worse, the dog love or him calling me Dude. Alas, it is a funny albeit sweet scene and I’m as much an animal lover as the next dude. I actually have nothing against dogs and feel a warmth inside when Kevin tells me the name of his dog. Herman. Herman? Herman. We finish our coffee and Kevin earnestly apologizes and asks me to please let him make it up to me with dinner. He suggests a lovely place with it’s own vineyard which I’ve been wanting to try. I accept and we agree to meet at the restaurant since he needs to swing by his place and drop off dear sweet slobbery Herman. I watch them play chase each other fondly to his car as I dry off from the rain and/or slobber and sticky roller my dress.