Strongly Worded

Doggone It

So. Mr. Canine and I saw quite a bit of each other over the last week. On Sunday we walked Spot. He shared some Deep Stuff about his family. But when I probed for some Deep Stuff about his breakup with his long-term-live-in ex-girlfriend, he completely clammed up. Later, he called to explain that he did not like to talk about the breakup because he worried that it cast him in a bad light. I was impressed by his pro-activity, but also mystified. A devastating breakup seems like a pretty normal (and fascinating) topic to me. Pain and suffering? Nothing to be ashamed of.

After we cleared the air, he came over for dinner, and we had a pretty good chat, and we even kissed. (It was good, cute kissing, but it made me anxious afterwards, and I had this weird dream in which he called me "hon” on the phone. I was so unnerved. When I woke up, I replayed his voicemails to ensure that he had not, in fact, prematurely used a pet name.) The next day he was in NYC for work, and he bought a bottle of cool wine, and invited me over to drink it.

I looked forward to it all day, because dating and cute emails have a way of inflating a prospective mate’s loveliness and compatibility. I had visions of making out with him on his Italian leather sofa. I wore a cute outfit and matching underwear (A mistake. Good underwear jinxes things). He prepared a very luscious dinner. I sipped the fancy wine even though I’d told him obliquely about my neurological issues (eliciting no concern or response). I tried very hard to introduce topics of conversation that invited follow-up: a weird meeting at work, my teenaged longing to attend prep school, my hatred of New Year's, racial diversity. He listened attentively after each of my comments and then responded with something tangentially related. Then we talked about un-meaningful things (piercings, squirrels).

I realized this was not OK and not going to change. We met about a month ago, and since then I've really, really wanted to make out with him on his Italian leather sofa. I've really, really wanted him to come to R.'s 4th of July party and have Spot romp around in her yard with her labradoodle. I've really, really wanted us to go swimming in Walden Pond, and go kayaking, and decorate my new apartment. But I can't do those things unless I can also spill my guts about my life; engage in charged, spark-filled chats; and feel like I can be me in an authentic, non-dog-loving way.

So after dinner I told him that even though I genuinely admire and like him, I feel we haven’t developed a close connection and we would have by now, if we were a match. And that was that. He was very gracious. We were both disappointed.

Afterwards, I felt relieved but also disheartened. I just want to fall in love.

Posted by Dori at 10:47 AM