Friends, I feel like I can talk to you openly and without judgment. Because of this, I'm going to share a little dating story tragedy that happened over the weekend. Are you excited or what?!!?
We've probably covered this before, but I'm going to just confess this right now: When I walk my dog, I do NOT dress up. For whatever reason, I have the same opinion when I walk my dog that I have about going out in public on my day's off: Everyone around me is most likely blind. OK, they're not really blind, but they should be. Because I just don't care. I will wear pretty much the first thing I find on the ground, pair it with some mismatched jacket, the ugliest shoes known to man that I ONLY wear to walk my dog in, and top it all off with no make-up and my hair in a bun. In a word, I'm glorious.
Hell, if it's early enough in the morning, I'll wear my pajamas. I"m not afraid to admit it.
So, on Saturday afternoon I was down on the beach with Sammy looking even more glorious than usual in full mis-matched sweats regalia
(with the hood up over my unwashed face). Since there weren't a lot of dogs around for him to play with, I put him back on his leash and started to leave. He, however, had other plans. Near the edge of the beach sat this weird looking, crooked
(he seriously looks lop-sided when he walks) dog, who never wants to play with Sammy, but, of course, Sammy loves. He jumped and jumped and jumped until I let him off his leash, so I finally caved and let him. The dog, of course, wanted nothing to do with Sammy, per usual, but I had fun talking to the dog's owner, who's a very nice lady and is just as amused by her dog's lack of interest in my hyper puppy.
Suddenly, Sammy sprinted away and went directly towards a little black Chihuahua. They started to run and play and were instant friends. As is my luck
(especially when I'm looking so lovely), the dog's owner was this super hot, dark-haired, guy with longish hair to his chin. He was very friendly, introduced himself, and we started to chat. Even better? He'd just moved onto my street, not far from my place at all. Score!
So, we get to chatting and he invites me over for some drinks later. He stayed at the beach a bit longer, but said he might come by on his way back. He never showed. Still, I take a shower and get ready, determined to look like a normal person wearing make-up and a cute outfit when we meet again. His impression of me cannot be the walk-the-dog attire. That just won't do.
I get ready and grab Sammy to head down to New Boy's house. As we walk outside, Sammy sprints ahead to the street like he sees a cat or something. Strangely, it was New Boy sitting in his car right in front of my house
(and, yes, only now that I'm typing this do I see how strange that sounds). Apparently he couldn't remember what number I said and had been trying all these places unsuccessfully looking for me. In fact, he went on to say that he'd told his friend he might never see me again and was upset about it. Interesting turn of events.
We head to his house and are on a rooftop deck chatting - me, New Boy, and his friend - while our dogs played. Now, I probably should've covered this at the beach, but I didn't. So, I ask who he lives with
(as the place had two rooms) and he said his girlfriend and her son
(in my head? The trumpet sounds from Charlie Brown - waaa waaa). Apparently said girlfriend was out of town at a Buddhist retreat
(really?). Instead of music, he's blasting Talk Radio. Blech. I actually heard the term "luminator" come across the airwaves. New Boy said he loved listening to Conspiracy Radio and then started some political rant which I tuned out. In fact, the more he talked about politics and conspiracies, the more I was thinking I may have dodged a bullet. We have nothing in common aside from the fact that our dogs enjoy playing together, we like the beach, and we live on the same street. I'm also wishing I could blame my dog on the reason I'm going to need to leave immediately.
Finally, he goes to change the channel to some actual music, I say good-bye to his friend, grab my dog, and start heading downstairs. New Boy follows me to see why I'm leaving. Although I'd like to say some fancy reason that doesn't make me look shallow, instead I say the truth, "You have a girlfriend." Breezy, right? He starts to tell me they're not doing well, they're going to break up, blah blah blah and he kisses me. I tell him when and if they break up, look me up. We'll see what happens then. Of course, that's just going to put me back in my usual and neverending position of Rebound Girl, so it probably wasn't a good suggestion to look me up later. WHAT IS IT IN ME THAT ATTRACTS PEOPLE ON THE VERGE OF BREAK-UPS?!?!!?
Long story short
(well, in theory anyway), once again I'm reminded that dating sucks! I should just realize I'm going to be an old, barren, spinster, living out my days alone with my dog. Sigh.
Apparently, something has broken down in my brain. Last night "28" (we've finally decided on his name, but I'm thinking he should be called "Relationship Guy" because that's what he seems to be) called to 
