You know you’re in the doghouse when your blind date greets you with two movie tickets, one for her, and the other for her Great Dane.
After exchanging pleasantries I addressed the elephant in the room, or in this case, the Marmaduke-sized pooch.
“Who’s your friend?” I asked.
“This is Baxter,” Julia (not her real name) said. “He goes everywhere with me.”
Now, dating in your 20s is hard enough.
After many romantical trials and errors, I’ve discerned some major red flags to avoid.
Firstly, going to the movies is never a good idea when you’re meeting someone for the first time.
You end up awkwardly stuck, sitting next to a complete stranger for two hours whom you’re unable to chat with.
From a male’s perspective, there’s also the unspoken hesitancy to attempt the ole, putting my arm around her shoulder as if I was stretching routine.
Either way, avoid any first dates that involve going to the movies. After fully comprehending that Julia was serious about Baxter’s accompaniment to see “John Wick: Chapter 4,” with us, we walked toward the ticket booth.
Once I bought my ticket, we headed into the movie theater. Before we were granted entry, Julia instigated an argument with the minimum-wage earning, ticket-ripping, theater employee who was merely trying to do his job.
He forbade Baxter’s entry into the theater, as it was a part of their policy. After a five-minute argument, lines of impatient-looking people queued behind us and an additional dispute with the theater’s manager, Julia managed to get us in, Baxter included.
Finally, we found our seats and the movie started.
I had hoped my troubles were over.
Little did I know they had just begun.
About 10 minutes into the movie, I boldly tried the arm-around-the shoulder yawning maneuver. I knew my advances were swiftly denied when I heard a sudden, low-pitched growl from Baxter, not Julia.
Baxter’s bared teeth and snarling growl were enough warning for me to back off.
So there I was, sitting next to a beautiful woman, unable to make my move because of Baxter the cock-blocking Great Dane.
Not to mention “John Wick: Chapter 4,” is almost three hours long. I had to think of a way to outsmart Baxter so he’d quit hounding me.
“Perhaps I could subtly hold her hand without Baxter the bodyguard noticing . . . ” I thought to myself.
Alas, my attempts were thwarted again. Except this time, Baxter popped up, barked and nearly gave me a heart attack.
Although it would've been nice to sneakily hold Julia’s hand, I decided it wasn’t worth losing mine.
Feeling daunted and defeated after two failed flirtatious attempts, I counted my losses, placed my hands out of Baxter’s reach and watched the movie. All the while, his baleful gaze kept a close watch on me, like a chew toy ready for shredding.
When the movie finally ended and we started heading home, I couldn't have been more relieved.
Our date had not gone as well as I’d expected it to, but all my fingers were accounted for, so I couldn’t complain.
Before dropping Julia off, we parked in front of her place, with Baxter in the back seat, I stupidly thought a third-times-the-charm advance at romance might just prevail. I was sorely mistaken.
“If I were to quickly try and kiss you goodbye, would Baxter attack me?” I asked, in hopes that she might suggest exiting the vehicle as an alternative smooching solution.
“Yes,” Julia firmly replied. “That’s what he’s trained to do.”
So, dear readers, although dating in your 20s can be hurtful and hard, I guarantee you that it’s not as hard as Baxter’s bite.
Tune in next week as I continue my ill-fated search for love. Spoiler alert: it involves the Heimlich maneuver.
