We had a schedule. I would arrive around 8:50am, he would arrive at 9am. Me with my dog, and him with his.
My 5-month old energetic basset hound would run up to him and beg for belly rubs, which he gave generously. I smiled. He smiled. And we went our separate ways in the park.
Him with his dog park regulars and me chasing after my puppy, headphones in, listening to a Ted Talk or a comedy podcast.
For months, we would make eye contact and smile politely. In the way that dog park regulars do.
Fall came around and the smiles turned into hellos. My dog would flop on her back in front of him. I’d watch her from a distance as he pet her, and smile at me.
I have to admit, I didn’t think much of it. I was in a new city, dating around. He was nice enough, but I never really noticed him.
But then I’d catch him looking over at me. I’d smirk, but steal glances when I could.
. . .
One brisk Sunday fall morning, I was making small talk with another regular, an older grandmother who came every morning with her golden retriever. She was telling me about her garden, and then she waved to someone behind me. It was him. She waved him over.
We exchanged smiles and hellos. She introduced us. I had been going to that dog park every morning for four months, had seen him every morning, and I hadn’t known his name.
He talked about a burger he grilled, the burger he’d make for me over the next two and a half years, and so proudly showed us pictures.
I ooo-ed over the picture of his burger politely and then excused myself as I wanted to keep an eye on my puppy who was still learning boundaries. But I knew that morning was different. I felt it as soon as I walked away. We had gone from dog park regulars to something else, something I didn’t know yet.
A couple weeks passed. Hellos and smiles turned into polite pleasantries, some flirtations, a giggle here and there, but mostly, just stolen glances from across the dog park.
. . .
One morning, as I was leashing up my pup and walking towards the gate, I heard, Hey, do you want to go to In N Out?
Finally. Sure, when?
Noon?
Today?
Yeah. The one three blocks from here.
Um, okay.
Okay, see you there.
And he walked away.
He didn’t get my number, he just asked me if we could get In N Out.
I got to In N Out at 12:03pm. He was standing there waiting for me.
We got our food and sat down. We were there for over three hours.
I told him I had to go, and he walked me to my car. He didn’t ask for my number, didn’t ask to see me again, just told me he had a great time and opened my door.
WHAT.
I went home confused.
. . .
I saw him everyday for over a month. Everyday, he made his rounds, said hello to all the dog park 9AM regulars, and came over and we talked until I had to leave. Everyday, I thought, he’s going to ask me for my number today. But he didn’t.
I broke my routine and didn’t go to the park one day. I was sick. Immediately, thoughts rushed into my head. Will he notice I’m not there? What will he think? Should I just go?
I fell asleep.
The next day, I saw him. He waved. I waved. He smiled. I smiled. He came over.
I missed you yesterday.
. . .
Fast forward a week.
Hey, do you want to go to the zoo with me?
Sure, I love the zoo.
Is it okay if I get your number?
Finally. I thought you’d never ask.
We texted briefly. Share memes, updated each other throughout the day.
The zoo date turned into dinner. Dinner turned into drinks. Drinks turned into us naked and out of breath in my bed.
. . .
He brought me a plate of Thanksgiving food when I came back from Friendsgiving because I didn’t have family in the area.
He sat with me for an hour watching the orangutans at the zoo (they’re my favorite animals at the zoo).
He wrote me love letters.
He introduced me to his parents, and met mine.
He left me silly and loving voicemails.
He encouraged me to go to grad school.
He held me as I cried when my dog was sick.
But as many love stories do, ours came to an end.
. . .
It was an uneventful night and I was tired of waiting for him to be the person I needed him to be. Finally never came. I loved him. I love him still. But it wasn’t and isn’t enough to create a life together.
I still go to the dog park. He does too. I’m just no longer a 9am regular.
—
This post was previously published on Hello, Love.
***
You might also like these from The Good Men Project:
Join The Good Men Project as a Premium Member today.
All Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS.
A $50 annual membership gives you an all access pass. You can be a part of every call, group, class and community.
A $25 annual membership gives you access to one class, one Social Interest group and our online communities.
A $12 annual membership gives you access to our Friday calls with the publisher, our online community.
Register New Account
Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—
Photo credit: Unsplash
