It’s 8pm and I’m sitting in my local pub. The man across the table from me refills my wine glass and slips another piece of whitebait to The Dude, my miniature dachshund. Rob is intelligent, attractive, fun and hasn’t commented on the pawprints on my trousers and top. The Dude’s earlier barking fit has subsided and he chomps the fish in a single bite. He’s smitten with Rob and I’m heading in that direction. So far, so good.
It had been a year since the end of my four-year relationship – a relationship which, if I’m honest with myself, had been on life support for at least two years before that. So, when I (finally) left, I did what I wanted to do for years: I got a dog.
Dachshunds are small dogs with massive personalities. The Dude is short, stubborn and has an opinion on most things. He’s my mirror in a lot of ways, the inspiration for the new series I’m writing and a huge part of my life. But while he’s great for companionship and cuddles, he’s not a substitute for a romantic relationship. It was time to dip my toes back in the dating pool.
I’ll confess: even though I can be shy, I’ve always had much better luck meeting people in real life, with any success on the apps rated only in terms of the comic relief it provided my friends. Historically, I met my boyfriends through work, nights out, and even – twice! – at the airport. But how do you meet people without technology these days?
My routine was the problem. As I work from home, most days I only leave the flat to walk the dog. Even when I’m out with friends, it’s usually to a local pub or restaurant – and often with a dog or three in tow, which isn’t always great for meeting anyone new, as our hounds have been known to bark so much that we’re were politely asked to leave. A small group of well-dressed lawyers and senior managers being booted out of pubs with dogs in tow? It’d take a brave man to come near us.
So, I committed to taking The Dude on an adventure to a different part of London (or the country) at least once every fortnight. If I met a man, fab. If I didn’t, then The Dude and I would have a nice time out. I also resolved to leave him with a friend or a dog-sitter once a month while I went to a non-dog-related event. Ironically, the first tactic yielded better results. If I’m taking my ‘wing-dog’ with me to watch the rugby game, or out to dinner, people often want to come over and pet the little furry attention-seeker.
While most of the people approaching us are women (nice, but not helpful to The Dude’s straight and single mama), men sometimes stop. They’ll slow down when passing my table, catch my eye, look at The Dude and smile. Sometimes they’ll ask to pat him, grinning when I warn them that The Dude is friendly but half-shark when it comes to food. They’re welcome to offer him a treat, but best to watch their fingers.
I’d never thought ‘Beware of my shark-dog’ would rank high on my best icebreakers list, but it’s worked its way to the top. It’s an easy way to open a conversation that may or may not lead to numbers being exchanged. Once or twice I’ve misread the situation: sometimes they’re more interested in The Dude than me, which is fine – it was still a nice chat. In fact, that’s how I met Rob, and we’d ended up on a date together.
Before I had The Dude, I’d pull out all stops on the first few dates. Perfect hair, makeup, nice dress, high heels – the works. It was a form of armour, and I only realise now how much it probably scared the living daylights out of people. Maybe it’s the dog, maybe it’s edging north of 50, but I find it better to replace that armour with smart, comfortable clothing and a 7kg dachshund (assuming that my date and the venue are okay with that).
At first, I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea. Would The Dude get more attention than I did? Would our conversation be interrupted by dog-friendly passers-by? Would my date get turned off when I had to dip out to walk – or clean up after – The Dude?
My worries pretty quickly evaporated – The Dude’s presence elevated my dates. With my dachshund in tow, it was hard to take myself too seriously. I found I was more relaxed, having more fun and being my more authentic self. If the guy wasn’t comfortable with that (which only happened once, largely due to The Dude licking my cheek), I realised the relationship wouldn’t work and it was definitely better to find these things out early. And, with a dog around, there’s never a lull in conversation.
The Dude is also open to bribery. Tactically deployed treats will not only ensure his good behaviour, he’ll allow you to snog his mum (if she consents, of course). Incidentally, if The Dude doesn’t like someone, even after being offered treats, there’s a problem. I’m fully subscribed to that Bill Murray quote: ‘I’m suspicious of people who don’t like dogs, but I trust a dog when it doesn’t like a person.’ They’re not likely to have a second date.
I was telling one of my friends about my dog-on-date tactic, and she looked appalled. ‘It will kill any chance of romance,’ she said. ‘With The Dude on your lap, you look too content. A man might not feel there’s room in your life for him.’
Personally, I think the right man would be clever enough to understand that just because I don’t need a man, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want the right one – there’s plenty of room for both.
Luckily, Rob doesn’t seem to be having an issue as he reaches across the table to feed The Dude another treat. This time, his eyes are on me as he leans in, and he suggests introducing The Dude to his pup, Luna, next time. Maybe dogs really can choose our dates for us…
The Dog Park Detectives: Bone of Contention by Blake Mara is out on 24 April.
The Dog Park Detectives: Murder is never just a walk in the park . . . (Volume 1)
