Ope Pardon, No. 11: Must Love Dogs

Here is a story about an emotionally taxing something I’ve found myself doing a lot lately. Feel free to laugh — it's objectively absurd. 

Every couple weeks, sometimes more frequently, sometimes less, feeling a mixture of exhaustion and optimism, I open up an app on my phone and I browse profiles.

I set location parameters and filters and I send messages to the people who catch my eye.

Usually, we arrange to meet. I get nervous about these meetings, I think about what I will say in advance. After, I wonder how it was for them and what they thought. If we do see each other again, and I begin to see, let's call them pink flags, I wonder how many more times I should see them in the name of giving things a chance before calling it off and going back to the app to find someone new.

You all are no doubt astute enough readers to know this isn't a setup for talking about newfangled online dating, which is no longer new or particularly fangled these days. That said, I did pointedly choose ambiguously phrased sentences to draw attention to the frankly startling similarities between dating on apps in the year of our lord 2022 and my current abiding quest to find a long-term (dog sitter) relationship for my sweet baby Jack.

Let me tell you about his exes and the reasons things didn't work out and you tell me it doesn't sound like pure uncanny valley brunch talk.

There's Melanie, Jack's most recent ex. Melanie lived nearby, which was great. She was a pretty good communicator — prompt and responsive, but more so when asked direct questions. She wasn't super forthcoming about how things went when they were together, i.e., feelings. Jack seemed to like her well enough, he was often excited to go to her place, but he came home with signs of distress. Nonetheless, she was one who I would have stuck it out with, with whom I would have tried to make it work — because I didn't want more change (for Jack) and work (for me) — but she found someone new (a dog of her own) and stopped sitting so that was the end of that.

Then there's Bruna — Bruna came over several times to walk Jack when I thought that was the route we were going to go with the days I go into the office, but something wasn't quite right. I don't know what happened on those walks, but the last time she came over to pick him up, he hid behind me and, honestly, I've never seen Jack actually seem scared of someone before. We have since run into Bruna around the neighborhood thrice, which is fine, we're all adults here, except the other day, I forgot the reason I had given her for "breaking up" with her (Jack needed a sitting situation with no other dogs, which was true at the time but is not anymore), which led to a mildly uncomfortable exchange.

Because you see while I am the matchmaker in this story, I’m also the one who has to navigate the awkward encounters with the women I’ve dumped on Jack's behalf at the dog park.

(I also worry she is an ex who is, how do I say, talking shit about Jack. Not maliciously, necessarily, but I've definitely overheard her telling other dog owners at the park how to behave around him and just because my aloof loner didn't like you does not give you the right to block his ability to make new friends! Waitstaff at bars across Paris can attest to his enjoyment of cuddles from strangers.)

Who else? There's Alexa — they seem to get along well but she lives too far away for anything more than the periodic sleepover and the past few times I've reached out she's been too busy. So it goes!

Oh, Jack spent one night with this man named Mathieu after being stood up by Alexa and it was remarkable; I've never seen him so calm. But Mathieu is expensive and will only sit at our apartment, which doesn't work for some of Jack's needs so it's just not a good match. We're still exploring whether Jack prefers men or women; women are overrepresented on Rover (that's the app) and Jack didn't seem particularly taken with the other guy who watched him once so who knows.

What's weird about this, beyond the fact that I talk about my dog's "dating" more than my own and that I talk about it like dating at all, is how emotionally wrapped up I am in each potential relationship.

The other morning, a couple weeks ago now, Jack and I had a date (?) with a woman who was going to watch him during a recent work trip. We met up so that our dogs could meet and then took a walk around the neighborhood and I told her about Jack's disposition and anxieties and we went to a dog park and when we parted ways, I felt...invigorated! Excited! Like life was full of promise! I was nervous, of course, for Jack's actual stay with her. Whether she'd be sufficiently diligent (she was!), whether he would be well-behaved (he was!). Whether this was just one good date or the start of something beautiful (still TBD!). But I felt legitimate butterflies and texted my friend immediately how I excited I was about this new someone. When it became apparent that, despite the good connection, I would need to go back to the app to find someone new for Jack, I felt crushed.

(In a tale as old as French time, they had a wonderful weekend together — maybe the best sitting experience he's had in France — and she loves him, but, save for a few dates this coming week and early June, he won't be able to see her again because she has like, half a dozen vacations planned this summer. Still in the picture but can't give him what he needs right now. Heartbreaking.)

So this weekend it was back to the app. There's an overnight I need covered in late May and another work trip in June. This time, I think I might go for a totally new type. Approximately 99.9% of the sitters on Rover are 20something women, but there is this kind-looking retiree not far from us whose profile says he watches dogs while he waits for approval to adopt from a rescue of his own. (The adoption process is, apparently, wildly complicated and slow here.) I sent a message to see if he was available to watch Jack soon. Perhaps an older man is just what Jack needs.