Sex & Love
FFJD: Really Bad Dog Makes Really Bad Date
Don’t you hate it when a dog messes up your game? Read More
It’s time to get back to some FFJD basics – AKA dating stories that make you want to cry, laugh, pee, or crawl under your desk in shame. So, I think we stopped at 40? Who knows. Who cares! At least you’re not this guy:
It had been a pretty good 2nd date. We went to get some mexican food at a little hole in the wall restaurant, and afterward went to a concert, with some local bands. It was fun, and the beer was cheap, so i’m not going to complain. Anyway i drop her off at home and she invites me to come in and have some wine at her place.
As soon as I get into her house a large dog comes bounding up to me. I go to pet him instinctively as I love pets, and he bites my hand. Not bad enough that i needed stitches, but enough to draw blood. My date was extremely embarrassed, got me a band-aid and we sat down to chat for awhile. Well one event leads to another and we are making out on the couch.
The dog got pretty antsy, jumps on the couch, and knocks my glass of wine out of my hand onto the white couch. So I apologize, clean up the red wine, (so should have picked white wine) and help my date strip the outside of the cushion to be thrown in the washer.
While she is in the laundry room, I have a man to man chat with the dog. Nothing fancy, just a few scratches on the ears, trying to calm him down, and maybe ask him not to hate me. It goes well, he sits next to me and we watch a bit of TV. By this time its late, and decide that I am going to go home to my place. I walk to the door, give my date a hug and a kiss before I leave.
After that I motion over to the dog wanting to give him a shake or at least a pat on the head. He sees me, and there is this look in his eye. Its like Sign of the Jew in Beerfest, I just know something is going to go wrong.
He charges me full speed, and he isn’t a tiny guy, i’d bet 50 or 60 pounds. I still have my hand out expecting him to shake it. He puts both his paws up and hits me square in the nuts while running through me.
Not like a little graze, like he had been planning this all night, and had just been waiting for the right moment to exact his revenge. I’m on the ground next to the front door in pain. Trying to figure out the best course of action, which I still don’t know what that is.
My date has no idea what to do, she grabs Fido and puts him in another room, and I’m still on the ground trying to put together any semblance of masculinity that I still have left. (Which isn’t much.)
I manage to get up and give my date another hug before I limp away to my car, praying that the freeway isn’t congested so i can get to the beckoning icepack in my freezer. FML.
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