The Day We Met

Man, the Universe is a sneaky, sassy little B sometimes. Just hours after I posted yesterday about my vow to remain single until the Universe brings my Romeo and me together the following happens:

We're doing our daily dog park outing thing. (I have to take this doggie every day, otherwise he'll drive me completely mad and make me feel like jumping off the balcony.)

I see a dude. We met last time we were here. He's a nice dude. We met because the dogs were piling up on each other and the play was getting rough. Now, if you know anything about dogs you know that they growl and nip at each other during perfectly peaceful play. This is normal.

But some of the schmucks that frequent this place are horrified 'cause, as I said previously, they fully expect dogs to play and interact with each other exactly the way humans do. And don't even get me started on their views on humping...I think they're just jealous it's not them.

Anyhoo, this is occurring and, of course, the nosey, uptighty-whiteys gotta get themselves involved. They start yelling at their dogs and forcing themselves into the fray to “break it up”. Jesus.

So this dude sees it and says something like, now, now, everyone. Calm down. They're just dogs playing.

I perk up and feel relieved. Thank you, fine sir. Finally someone gets it.

After the party is broken up I walk over and say, I agree with you, by the way. They're just being dogs. The only reason I walked over to get my dog is because I'm so used to being yelled at here by people who don't want my dog to play with theirs. Even though they're at a freakin' dog park!

We both laugh and he looks at me with a smile. The eyes are a little weird, though. A little too nice. A little too welcoming and interested. But, I'll get to that later.

Now, mind you, I've just spend a month holed-up in this God-forsaken condo trying to get some repairs and upgrades done. I've had next to no human contact, I feel isolated, I feel alone. Then, when I finally go to Ireland to see my family and desperately want to connect with them, they tell me I'm crazy and to go get professional help.

Long story short, I'm feelin' a bit chatty. I just want someone to talk to.

We walk around the pond together and I gather rather quickly that this dude's gay. (So, I guess, trigger warning for readers out there who know damn well what I'm about to say is true and can't stand it when others honestly describe the world around them.)

Why gay? He was a bit above average in enthusiasm, clarity of speech, eagerness to chat, openness, and I guess, general perkiness.

(Ok, trigger warning over until the next one which will be in about 2 minutes. Actually, consider this your blanket trigger warning for this entire blog.)

We BS for a while, he leaves. Sayonara. And that's that.

So yesterday he's there again and he comes right up with this enthusiastic ass and still unsettling eye-contact. We chat. Do the pleasantries and such and he jumps right back in to the chatting.

What do you do for a living? Oh! How interesting! I do this thing. Where do you live? Sounds really cool. I live in this place with cool old oak trees, it looks like a sci-fi movie set, etc. That's so cool that you were out of town recently? Why did you go there? What did you do?

Smiles, caring, and enthusiasm in his demeanor all the while. And then...

Are you single?

Now, I don't think anything of this question. I don't know why. I think it's because I was in la-la land just thinking about life. Another thing is, I don't mind talking about any subject with anyone. I'm the Queen of what would be deemed “politically incorrect” or “personal” questions with strangers, just because I find people interesting and genuinely want to hear what they have to say.

So I answer honestly. Yeah, I was married. Such and such happened. We're cool though. Now I just roam the earth, do my art, blah blabbity-blah. There's this other dude, but he just wants freedom, so now I think it's time to join a nunnery. (That last thing was an attempt at humor. Ok, maybe not.)

He tells me his relationship stuff and how he and his ex are still able to have coffee together from time to time. I say that's great...

Him: We should hang out sometime. Maybe take a bike ride?

Me [Thoughts]: Oh, fuck me sideways. I haven't the mental capacity to deal with this right now.

Me [Audible]: Yeah, we're here every day almost. I'm sure we'll get to hang out a ton.

His face completely drops and demeanor changes, like a light switch. If we were in a room, the energy would have been sucked out. I can't hurt this poor dude's feelings, so I muster an ounce of strength to devise another option.

Me: I only do things that are dog-friendly now, so we're frequently at the brewery up the road.

Him: Who's “we”.

I point to the dog and call him my “boyfriend”.

Him: So we're just gonna leave it up to chance then?

Me: Sure. You don't believe in the Universe as much as I do.

I give a giggle.

Him: So I take it you're not going to give me your number.

He's getting increasingly perturbed. I see it's time to put my serious face on and change my tone to trial attorney. I don't know if he knows who he's dealing with here, but this ain't my first ro-day-oh, bub.

Me: What I'm saying is I don't know you well enough to give you my number.

He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a business card. I'm starting to get nervous cause this dude's personality has just changed right before my eyes and he now knows a crap-ton of personal information about me.

Him: Well, it's the man's job to ask. So I asked.

Me: I understand, but don't be offended. I was raised on True Crime documentaries, so my threshold for trust is a bit higher than most. Seriously, it's not you. I do this to everyone.

(The True Crime documentaries replaced the Jesus videos and PBS specials when my dad started dating again, just to clear that up.)

I laugh. Seriously! I do treat everyone like this. To me, everyone's a murderer until I'm confident they've proven otherwise. And, even then, we've still got guys like Ted Bundy running around out there so, we're all, in fact, doomed.

I'm standing there holding the card and he quickly walks away. Goddammit! Now I feel so uncomfortable that I don't want to stay at the dog park. I could have just shrugged it off, and probably would normally, but my mental state isn't quite primed for mature behavior right now.

I leave. I'm irritated, but I also feel bad. What if he took the rejection personally?

I feel so damn bad for dudes sometimes. Years of rejections, and for a lot of them, nobody to teach them how to behave with potential romantic partners. It's probably worse now with the internet. Either you're getting advice from testosterone-y douche bros or feminists or dudes who claim to be feminists. I don't know, man.

This shit is simple.

Since I don't give a shit about PC speech, here goes: women, in general, think differently than men. If you want women, all it takes is a little understanding mixed with a little technique.

I swore I'd never do this, but here's an internet listicle for ya. I'll call it Smiley's Top 5 Greatest Tips for Dating the Modern Woman. Jesus.

Be patient. When you appear to be rushing things and won't let us get to know you a little better, we immediately realize you are playing a numbers game. I'm not into dudes who play numbers games. I like depth. I need to know someone well to be comfortable with them. And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand that when you treat someone like a number, they don't exactly feel special. If you had any doubt let me clear it up: people like to feel special, especially in a romantic context, and especially women.

If you really are interested in her and sense pushback just relax and say, cool, I'll see you here next time.

Don't take it personally. Ever! You never know what's going on in someone's life. You never know if they've been recently hurt, physically or emotionally, or if they've got some shit going on behind the scenes. Just because they tell you they're single does not mean they're looking.

It could very well be they are not attracted to you. I'm sorry to say this but if you've been dealt a shitty genetic hand or have let yourself go, that's an area you are going to have to work on first and foremost.

Be concrete. Don't say “let's hang out sometime”. That's the worst shit you can do. It's an open-ended statement and it will get her defenses up. If you are going to ask her to spend time with you, always have an idea in your mind including place and time, and always, always, always invite her to a busy public place. Think festivals, breweries, etc. Any place there are a lot of other people around. She might want to meet up with you but she also wants to feel safe. Suggesting you ride your bikes off into the woods together is not a good idea.

Try something like, I'm gonna be at such-and-such later with some friends around 6. I'd love it if you joined us.

Work on yourself!!! Make it your top priority to get the fuck off Reddit, Facebook, or whatever and get some social skills. The number one most important skill you'll need is confidence. Confidence will overcome almost any physical limitations including height, weight, and even money.

Do the work! If you don't, someone else will.

That was only 4 tips, whatever. I ran out of time. Ok, enough about my awkward life. Bye.