Share It Sunday, Barley The Border Collie!

Nominated by last week's guest blogger Tenacious Little Terrier.

My Dog is My Wingman (Just Not a Very Good One)

I don't date. I never really have. Of course, I find lots of men attractive. In preschool, I used to chase a little boy around the playground singing "Stop in the Name of Love." Once, when my mom took my best friend and I to the grocery store with her, we saw this little boy and my friend and I went into the empty checkout lane beside the one my mom had chosen, pulled down the microphone, and started singing "Stop in the Name of Love" over the grocery store speakers.

But, I tend to have unrealistic expectations for people. I don't have a typical type. Some athletes are nice to look at--and I know that lots of them are smart, but after I dated a lacrosse player who got a concussion when he tripped over a bench on the sidelines, I haven't had much interest in dating an athlete. Successful professional men are closer to my type, but I'm not really cut out for all the networking and socializing that comes along with that life. My ideal guy is someone who is exactly like Professor Bhaer from Little Women (a little older, smart, very patient and understanding of my independence) and also willing to drive a really big truck and live on a nice piece of land out in the country. If he's also into craft beer, baseball, and dogs, that's a big plus, too. Basically, I want a sophisticated, cowboy-English professor. Apparently, those are hard to come by. (This only encourages me to want to check out the Cowboy church I noticed on the way home from agility class a few weeks ago.)

Also, I really like love having alone time. The thought of having to check in with someone else before I go somewhere, buy something, plan something nauseates me. The thought of having to see someone else every single day when I get home from work is suffocating. I love being able to go where I want, when I want. I love waking up, deciding that I want to go on an adventure, and grabbing Barley's leash and hopping in the car without seeing what someone else wants to do. Once, when I was 16, I went over to help the boy that at that age I was naive enough to think I would one day end up married to with his trigonometry homework; when I walked into the house, I don't remember exactly what I saw--I think it was just him in casual non-school clothes sitting at the dining room table--but I remember thinking, "Oh God. This is what every day for the rest of my life will be like if I get married." I decided then and there that I'm in no hurry to commit to someone else.

I'd also need to buy a significantly bigger bed before committing to someone else.

Plus, I hate small talk. I hate getting to know other people. I'm not good at those sorts of conversations because I hate to feel like I have to work to connect with someone else (cue Billy Currington's "Like My Dog").

So, someone has to seem pretty special before I'm willing to work at a relationship and reign in my independence a little bit. That doesn't happen often.

But that doesn't mean Barley doesn't get me into awkward situations with guys regularly.

Sometimes, she keeps me from getting to know them. Once, an attractive biker at the lake slowed down and started chatting with me. Barley nipped at his tires. He quickly pedaled away. Recently, a guy who looked like he could at least be an educator--maybe a science teacher--who also was a little rugged and outdoorsy started chatting with me on the trail. Then it started to sprinkle. My diva dog doesn't do rain and started dragging me back down the trail towards the car.

Other times, she draws attention that I usually am not interested in. For example, this week, we were out walking after agility. It was a beautiful evening and there were a ton of people out with their dogs.  I usually just pull off to the side, turn my back to trail, and work "watch" with Barley and give her as many treats as she needs to stay sitting and calm. Between me being turned away from the people and the sight of our "I Need Space" leash, people usually say hi and keep moving, or comment on how well behaved Barley's being, or completely avoid us. I try to say hello or mention that they have a nice a dog, just so I don't seem like a total witch (that's the Southerner in me coming out). So, this week, a man--who actually I wasn't sure if he was a man until he spoke and androgyny is really not my type--was walking his pug. The pug was on a flexi and it didn't seem that the guy was interested in keeping the dog in close. I pulled off the trail very early and started working with Barley. The guy walked by, said hello, I said he had a cute dog. I kept focusing on Barley. Then I noticed the pug was stopped a few feet behind Barley. I looked up. I gave Barley another treat. Then the guy said, "So, are you just taking a break?" and it was clear from the way he said it and the way he looked at us that he thought we might take a break and chat with him--in the middle of the path when we were in a park where there are a ton of benches overlooking the river that we could have stopped at. I had to say, "No. She's just not good with other dogs," which caused him to look flustered, say "Oh. Oops," and walk away. Awkward.

Barley thinks anyone who wouldn't want to talk to us is crazy.

Then on the way back to the car, a cute park ranger was walking back towards his SUV. Barley has a thing for guys in uniform--I don't really, but she likes to try to visit every cop we ever see--and she started trotting with a little more pep in her step, her tail was extra curly and wagging, and she was staring him down. He looked at her, laughed, and stopped getting in his car. I said,"Hi, how are you?" He said, "Good, how are you?" and then after I replied, my hatred of small talk reared it's ugly head and I kept walking to the car. Maybe Barley needs to watch 101 Dalmatians, so she has some ideas on how to prevent me from walking away when she finds potential father figures for herself.

Today's awkward interaction involved walking past the bath house at the lake and seeing a young man peeing behind it. It was clear from his stance what he was doing, so I made sure we looked every where but at the bath house. Then he suddenly yelled at us, "Oh! I'm so sorry!" I can't blame him--for some reason, Ohio thinks that people who use their parks don't have to use the bathroom between Labor Day and Memorial Day--I thought my bladder was going to explode a few weeks ago because a bathroom--that I was so very excited to see--was locked and there were no leaves on the trees yet, so there was no hope of finding a private spot in the woods (which I have yet to have to do, but I was on the look out for a good woodsy spot). But again awkward.

Plus, who wants to look at awkward boys when it's such a pretty day at the lake.

So, Barley's trying really hard to add some male influence to her life, but not very successfully. 

Soth says he's not interested in making more room in bed, either.

Until she masters the art of being a wingman, I'm perfectly content with browsing the aisles at Barnes and Noble and Tractor Supply Company ;)

Barley The Border Collie!

Continuing to give something back on my 'Share It Sunday'. We all share and we grow together. Pop over and say hello and make a new friend.

From the author Molly The Wally.