My dog knows more about men than I do
Discover more from Tickled
My dog knows more about men than I do
Two men I wish my dog would’ve saved me from
Writer’s note: This post was first published on Medium’s “Tickled” on August 10, 2020 and will now be permanently housed on Substack’s new “Tickled” column.
Women listen to their friends all the time about what they’re doing wrong and right as singles on the dating scenes. Sometimes their girlfriends get it right. Sometimes they give the worst advice. But the bitch (no, literally, she is) I really needed to pay more attention to had four legs. She showed me that my dating instincts are terrible. Somehow though, I still haven’t learned.
Recommended Read: “Your dog can be your wingman, watchdog or a hater ~ If my watchdog doesn’t like you, then maybe I shouldn’t either”
Lesson 1: No waiter, no date.
A college friend of mine was absolutely flabbergasted that I was cool with going on dates to places with no waiters. I’m far more concerned with getting to know the person I’m with than hearing someone say, “Would you like to try our appetizers?”
But this guy had called me four times and asked me out repeatedly. I agreed. He was cute. I met him on CollegeClub.com (so that tells you I’m not new to this online dating thing). We’d both just graduated from college at the time. We met downtown in front of Carson Pirie Scott (R.I.P. to the best department store ever in Chicago). And he asked me if I wanted to go to one of his favorite eateries: Portillo’s.
We got there. He ordered and walked to the front area to get his food. And then he sat down. I stood at the ordering counter and watched him at his table. Completely confused by his behavior, I got out of line and sat at the table. He munched away on his burger and fries.
My response: “Are you serious right now?”
Him: “Huh?”
My response: “You weren’t going to wait until I ordered?”
Him: “Oh, you were hungry, too?”
My response: “Wow!”
Him: “Well, do you want some of my fries?”
My response: “Nope, I want to leave.”
I walked right out of that restaurant and called my mother. And she laughed hysterically and asked me how close I was to her job. After I responded, she invited me to come by for lunch.
“Poor child, I’ll be your date today,” she said in between laughs. “And I won’t make you pay either.” No sympathy from Mom.
And when I made the mistake of telling the college friend about my non-waiter date, he tried to hide his laughter.
My father and brother were not amused. Their take was simple: “The person who asks, pays.”
My motto after that date: Waiter mandatory. Ask who’s paying ahead of time. Don’t date anyone your dog can’t see first.
Lesson 2: Improv classes teach singles what they’re doing wrong.
I walked into an improv class, and I saw a guy who looked like he could’ve walked fresh off a GQ cover. He was attractive, but he wasn’t my type. I shrugged and sat down. Meanwhile several other women gawked at him. When our instructor came in, he asked us to play a game. We were supposed to all read the same exact speech but as a particular character.
I am pretty sure the character I picked was a “stewardess” or “pilot.” It had something to do with travel. It just so happened that Mr. GQ was paired with me. Part of the fun of the improv lesson was we had no idea what character the other person chose. We could guess at the end. So our entire group sat facing each other in pairs, and we read those same lines.
I read mine first. He looked intrigued, trying to guess who I was by my body language and the way I read the lines. And then he read his. And the minute the first few lines left his mouth, I decided I liked him. He was the epitome of sexy, and he magically became my “type” of handsome as he talked. He still looked the same. It was just the way he read those lines.
When the rest of the group finished reading while we looked on, I checked his finger for a wedding ring. And then the teacher asked us to reveal what “character” we played. A few of the girls giggled, and one said, “I think I know what character he was playing.” I had no clue.
He made eye contact with me and responded: “Serial killer.”
Right at that moment, I realized this is exactly why my German Shepherd knew I needed help when it comes to dating. I left that class without his number and a third lesson learned. My dog realizes I clearly don’t know how to pick ‘em.
Did you enjoy this post? You’re also welcome to check out my Substack columns “Black Girl In a Doggone World,” “Homegrown Tales,” “I Do See Color,” “Tickled,” “We Need to Talk” and “Window Shopping” too. Subscribe to my free weekly newsletter to keep up with all posts at once.
If you’re not ready to subscribe but want to support my writing, you’re welcome to tip me for this post! I’ll buy a dark hot chocolate on you. Thanks for reading!