Seriously, forget spending hours getting glammed up to go on a pulling night with the girls, just get a
dog. Not only will it keep you company on cold nights, protect you from evil postmen and shit on your sofa, but they are
*the* best way to meet people/guys/girls.
I have proof.
So, we've already established that I still live with my parents. A few months ago they were getting ready to jet off to Tenerife, and we were making plans for the dogs during this time. I work long days, and through past (diarrhea-related) experiences, we've decided it's best if someone comes to check on them during the day. Convienently enough, in our sleepy little village, is a pet company that provides this exact service. For a few years now, a very reliable and lovely lady has been seeing to our pet needs, and once again we called on her assistance. Arriving home from work I saw the pet van outside the house, little did I know there would be a stonkingly fit FITTIE inside. Not only had Mandy provided us an excellent pet service all these years, but in replacement of herself (currently heavily pregnant) she had bused in what appeared to be none other than the Son of God/Heath Ledger.
I nearly had an orgasm right then and there.
He looked up from his crouched position, petting the dogs (petting the dogs! +100 man points) and mum and Mandy introduced me to this fine 20-something specimen. 'Steve will be looking after the dogs whilst your parents are away if that's ok?' Mandy inquired with a smile.
He can Look after me too if he wants. 'Yep, no that's absolutely fine' I chimed. We made some other small talk, Steve would be taking over the buisness and moving into Mandy's old house in the village. Eventually it was time for them to leave. Cue excellent opportunity to swap numbers. Fucking yes. 'Do you want my number just incase you have any problems with the dogs or anything?'. Boom. Worked like a freaking charm. ThankYOU, doggies and your irritable bowel syndrome. I got his number in return, and that was that.
Texts ensued the follwing week, just with information about where the dogs leads were etc etc (stay with me here...it'll get more interesting). Then by the thursday night I recieved a text clearly not meant for me. I replied, telling him his error, and then followed an extensive text conversation. Oldest trick in the book perhaps? Either way, it got us chatting about things other than dogs.
He took me out in his dog van (dogging van?) on Sunday, and we went for a walk and chatted about life and family and interests. It was so refreshing to meet someone in a non-drunken manner, in such a pure and lucid way. Usually it would take me at least five double gin and slimlines to be comfortable with a man I barely knew. The reality was, though, that I was seeing Neil at the time, and later it emerged that Steve had a girlfirend also. I needed to finish things with Neil well before this anyway, but I think this sparked the fuse. I didn't want to do wrong by Neil, so continued speaking to Steve but kept things light and friendly, I also didn't want to be 'that person' between him and his girlfriend.
When I look back I feel like a bit of a knob. He told me they were having 'crisis talks' and asked if I wanted to go for a drink on the Friday. My sleepy village is so shocking that by 10pm on a FRIDAY NIGHT the pub was deserted, so we walked back (to the sound of his mobile phone ringtone, his girlfirend had called at least three times). I don't know what would've happened a the end of my road, but I think if I hadn't said a rapid goodbye and scampered back to my house then perhaps the embrace could've been something more, had it not been for my wake up call (literally). I called up the taxi rank and went straight into town to meet my friends. Fuck pure and lucid, I was going to get twatted. I left the ball in his court after that, we remained in contact but nothing has happened since, which is a shame but probably for the best.
What makes me think to tell you this story is because tonight I bumped into him on the way back from my run. Great. After weeks and weeks he chooses now. Basically the worst possible timing, with sweat pouring from every orrifice, sports bra barely holding those hush-puppies up and puce in the face. I managed to regain my breath enough to make some small talk and be mauled by the thousands of dogs he was surrounded by, adding the already delightful eau de Lola. Needless to say, even thought we were both free that night, neither of us got in touch.
However, dogs. They open doors. The doors may shut again, but at least I got to have a look around the room!
*insert awesome proverb here*. Slightly concerned for when my parents take their next holiday though.
Next time you're scooping that poop, don't hate on your puppy, appreciate the possiblities and get a-looking for those fitties!
