His on-line dating profile boasted more photos of his dog than of him. Single guys love their pets,
I figured, and that’s sweet. Plus we had two very nice, lengthy phone-conversations. Fred was educated, kind, liberal-minded, and a good decade younger than me.
This, a refreshing change.
So it was with rising optimism that I parked my car at the tea house. And
then it was with deflated dreams that I watched a scrawny, casually dressed man
step out of his beat-up gray Mazda. A shadowy figure dominated the passenger’s
seat, and I realized it must've been his beloved canine.
I stepped into the tea house, and Fred immediately approached.
He had a flat face. Presumably, he still does. But as we sat across from each other in a comfy booth, the man grew on me. He’s a fairly easy communicator, I thought. He met all the main criteria in dimmed lighting - which gave his face a semblance of dimension.
The bill came. “Do you want me to pay my part?”
“If it makes you happy.”
Well, it wasn’t going to make me happy, and I only had tea. So I quietly allowed
Fred the full opportunity for happiness.
As we meandered towards my car, I learned that his dog, Heidi, was
waiting for him. “We go everywhere together. It’s what we do.” Before I could register the oddity of Fred's enmeshed relationship with a female dog, he enveloped me in a warm
embrace – the kind that got me worked-up and wanting more.
I got home and texted: “Thank you for a very nice time.”
He responded: “Would you like to get together for dinner tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’d like that.”
We made plans for date #2.
To be continued in the next few days.
