My-dog-is-dying Guy

February 2nd, 2009

That was the day I went on my second date of the year. Sondre, the Norwegian, was also a guy I met on an online dating site. We talked for a few weeks before he asked for my phone number and we talked about meeting. I had recovered from the high hopes I'd had for the previous guy and tried to stay calm about this new guy. This guy also seemed perfect though. He was also tall, light brown hair, blue eyes, average build. He had a masters degree, didn't do drugs, not an alcoholic, lived in a town home and had a dog. I love dogs, so that was a big plus. We decided to meet for drinks at a nearby bar. I showed up first and he showed up only a few minutes late. Before we really got the introductions over, he started in on his story about his dog being sick. Naturally I felt sorry for him and wanted to know more. He seemed genuinely concerned for his best friend. For half an hour he talked about it, showing me pictures on his Blackberry, before we finally moved onto other topics. He was very talkative and before long it had been two hours, and he insisted he should go home, because he was tired.

When the bill came he paid, which was nice for a change. He apologized for talking so much about his dog and I told him to let me know how the surgery goes. He'd made it sound like it was life and death kind of a thing, and after hearing about it all night, I felt attached to it. We hugged and he suggested we meet for a second [more positive] date early next week. I told him that if nothing else I would really like to at least get a text message about the dog to let me know if he's alive or not. He promised he would and that we would talk later.

I waited two days and had told everyone about the sad story of this one year old dog that may or may not make it. After two days I texted him, asking about the dog, thinking maybe he'd been so overwhelmed he hadn't gotten around to calling me yet. He never called.