I didn't want anything to do with a lady with a wiener. Plus, I was super insecure.
There are two kinds of people in this world: Neil Diamond fans and everyone else. There are further two kinds of people: pet owners and everyone else. Then, there are even further two kinds of people: dog people and cat people. I'm a fan of the Jewish Elvis, have never owned a pet and sort of prefer cats because we're both solitary hunters. Given those personality characteristics, I'm almost completely undateable. But I luck out here and there.
Her name was (is, I suppose) Melissa. We met in a martial arts class – it wasn't cardio kickboxing. Our technique is a brutal mixed martial art called Krav Maga. We joked around and chatted and generally enjoyed sweating on one another. I enjoyed her company and asked her to get ice cream after our class. She wondered if I was secretly 11, and suggested we go for beer instead.
After we pumped down a couple of Steveweisers and laughed about a person or thing that we were superior to, we decided to hang out again outside of class. She also told me that she was taking our class because she'd found herself in date rape-y situations and wanted to defend herself. Between the appointed hang and the first beer, we had a few classes and did what can, in hindsight, only be described as "flirt" with each other. Having sisters, a handful of close lady friends and fairly low self-esteem, I've lived under the idea that men and women can sleep in the same bed platonically and that most *gals* aren't into me.
When we finally hung out, I wasn't nervous because: A) I'm as cool as the second coolest guy from LMFAO (still pretty cool); and B) I had no idea this is a date. Straight guys and girls who only sort of know each other get steaks, drink beer and see Kate Beckinsale movies ALL THE TIME. WTF: A Man Refused To Date Me Because I Looked Like THIS PERSON
When the movie ended, she asked me over to see her apartment, which was more or less on the way home. She grabbed me a beer and we started chatting. Again, the rearview mirror says, "Make a move, numbnuts." Her dog hopped on the couch and she tells me about him. The story goes, and I am not making a word of this up, that the wiener dog's name is Squirt and usually manages to worm his way between her legs while she sleeps. She tells me I'll have to deal with the dog if I want to stay over. Maybe her past bad experiences with men was recalled somewhere in my "good guy brain" but I tell her that I'm not sleeping with her dog and decide to hit the bricks rather than drive home buzzed.
About 5 miles back towards my place I have my Usual Suspects moment and begin putting clues together. Thankfully, I didn't tumble my sweet Japanese sports car like a coffee mug falling in slow motion but I did text while driving to assure her I "wanted to hang out again soon…" I Went On A Date With A Guy Who Stank Like Hot Garbage
We saw each other regularly after that, both in ass-kicking class and socially, but she put the platonic brakes on anything more risqué than bump n' grinding on a dancefloor. She'd introduce me to girls and I'd be almost too cool about it when guys wanted to dance with her.
One of the times I was over-served, I mentioned that I felt a little more strongly about her than my behavior had previously indicated and she let me know the moment passed when I didn't want to sleep with her dog (and her). For a long time, I thought that a stupidly/appropriately named wiener dog ruined a pretty good thing. The good news is that she thought Neil Diamond was lame, so we would have had an expiration date anyway.
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