As much as I'd like to think a dog-centered lifestyle could work, unfortunately I'm all too aware that much like my princess pup, I'm a little needy. I also lack situational awareness and can barely make it through a trip to the DMV without losing my sh*t. So I press on in search of someone who can save me from myself. It's a labor of love for, well, love.
But man, it's rough out there. The singles of the world are not-so-delicately tiptoeing through a hot mess minefield riddled with creepazoids, mistaken identities and ferrets. Yes, ferrets.
So today I've set out to detail some words of advice for those of you wading through the madness with me. Let my dating screw ups and these vintage Becky memes remind you that you're not alone. And dating is hard.
RULE #1: Pre-date stalking is absolutely necessary
When I pull up to the valet stand (I know, I'm "so Dallas"), no one shows up. So after a few panicked minutes of waiting, I give up to find street parking instead. I sprint all three blocks and enter the bar literally panting. But my lack of oxygen isn't the issue here. Oh no.
You see, amidst my scampering I forget to do a quick refresh of this guy's profile. It's in this moment that I realize the only details I'm able to recall about his appearance describe about 85% of the men around me: over 6 foot with brown hair. So. That's a problem.
But wait -- he also said he was the only guy sitting alone with two waters. This I can work with. I easily identify someone meeting this description and saunter over while attempting to regain my composure. PLAY IT COOL, BECKY.
I say hello, hug him, sit down and launch into a tirade about the missing valet. As I finally take a breath and a sip of water, he speaks his first words.
"Sorry... I don't mean to be rude, but... who are you meeting?" - himThere. Are. Two. Men. In. This. Bar. Sitting. Alone. With. Waters.
[I choke on my water, which is apparently someone else's water.]
"Are you telling me you aren't Tom?" - me
"No, I'm Peter." - him
"What can I get you to dri..." - waitress
[I dramatically throw my hand in the air to stop her approach.]
"I'M NOT STAYING!" - me
[Waitress backs away slowly.]
"But if you're Peter, WHERE IS TOM???" - me
"I don't know. What does he look like?" - him
"If I knew that, would I be sitting across from you right now?" - me
I wish Peter well then do a lap around the bar to locate Tom. I was already frazzled before I sat down with the wrong human, but after that debacle, I'm a 10/10 on the crazy scale. This poor guy endures two hours of me self-combusting in front of him. Our conversation topics are hazy, but there was definitely a discussion surrounding his ex and a story about my cousin's husband's brothers. Way to play it cool, Becky.
When Tom hugs me and says we'll "have to do this again sometime," I convince myself I salvaged the situation. I'm delusional and he ghosts me. The good news is, Peter and his date were still chatting and making googly eyes at each other when I left. Go Peter! I bet he did his research.
RULE #2: Always check the laundry room for ferrets [and red flags]
Initially, this guy seems like the complete package: a total sweetheart who loves quirky dates, bad puns and my dog. But in typical Becky form, I repeatedly talk my way around the red flags. And there are LOTS OF THEM. Like that Instagram picture of him wearing a tiara. Or when he says he's already thinking about our Halloween couples costume. Then there's his turtle.
"So, how long does this species of turtle usually live?" - meRed flag #31 advises that if we end up together, this reptile could be living under my roof longer than my own children. I look at my out-of-control red flag collection, but rather than doing an about face, I somehow muster a fake smile accompanied by the words "Oh, that's nice."
"Sometimes up to 35 years!" - him
"And how old is Shelly?" - me
"She's only three!" - him
Dr. Dolittle and I only see each other a few times during our brief courtship due to busy travel schedules, so we rely mostly on text. He's a calming force when Roxie goes into emergency surgery while I'm in London, and protective when I'm alone in an Airbnb in Portugal. The turtle is out of sight out of mind, but more red flags pop up -- like when he says he "has something to tell me." Is a guy I barely know going to say those three monumental words? I change the subject immediately.
Despite all this, I'm excited to see him when he picks me up from the airport. I audibly squeal when he hands me a drink from Sonic. He forgot a straw, which launches me into a rant about how men and women have different views on proper straw use practices. I spot a sign for a Chick fil A mid-prattle, and convince him to pull over so I can rekindle my love affair with the chicken sandwich. I grab an extra straw on my way out the door and wink at him as I make another astute straw observation. The great straw debate: this and other important topics from the genius mind of jetlagged Becky.
Here ends our romantic love story, because things are about to get weird. Back at my place, he reminds me of something I've been trying to forget.
"Remember how I had something to tell you?" - himPlease feel free to request a dramatic reenactment of the rest of this conversation the next time you see me. The gist is that the domesticated rats were his ex girlfriend's and he got full custody in the breakup because she wanted to get a dog LIKE A NORMAL PERSON. The ferrets and the turtle roam freely when he's home like a low-budget petting zoo. He also takes them for walks and gets them Easter baskets.
"Um... yes. But whatever it is, don't feel like you..." - me
"...It's that I have ferrets" - him
"I'm sorry, what?" - me
"Yeah, two of them. Their names are Arnold and Norbert." - him
"You're a 32-year-old man with two ferrets and a turtle?" - me
"Yeah. I mean, they're pretty much just like dogs." - him
"Disagree. Also, hold on, where were they when I met Shelly?" - me
"Oh, I hid them in my laundry room." - him
I tried to take my rabbit on a walk once. I was 7.
This is red flag #94. Yet somehow I find myself rationalizing the situation. They're just ferrets, right? Negative. This is much bigger than ferrets.
The next day, he texts me to inform me that I hurt his feelings. I'm confused, but apologize for my ferret comments; maybe I laid it on a little thick. To be fair, though, I thought I was going to hear the words "I love you." Instead I heard "I have ferrets." Honestly, I think I would have had a better response to the love than the ferrets.
Here's the kicker: he isn't upset about the ferrets at all. He's upset ABOUT THE STRAW. Apparently my spot-on analysis and accompanying jokes dissecting the differences in male and female straw usage habits just didn't fly.
Our differences become even more obvious when in an effort to win me back, he writes an absurdly long text message... from the perspective of his ferret. I'm no relationship guru, but it seems like if you're disagreeing about straws and using ferrets to communicate a month in, it's best to just throw in the towel. So I do. He cries while I watch "Vanderpump Rules." Safe to say we were on different pages.
Red flags look different for everyone: they could be the presence of ferrets or someone's aversion to ferrets. It's listening to those red flags (ferret-related or not) that's the thing. Still, I believe every weirdo has his/her compatible weirdo. And just to be clear, we're all weirdos. I mean, I started this post admitting that I hired a professional photographer to document my dog. No one is safe.
I'm happy to report that ferret man appears to have found himself a pro-ferret equivalent. They look happy and I'm happy for them. Maybe she has a snake and a chinchilla!
The good news is: if ferret man can find love, there really IS hope for us all. Just make sure you sit down with the right person.
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