Sundog

He started seeing a new girl several weeks after a particularly cruel breakup and this new girl was fascinating, fit, present, unpretentious, sharp, listened intently, cooked Lebanese appetizers, hummed Brahms, loved animals, made six figures, and in totality was excruciatingly attractive in ways emotional, physical, and spiritual. This new girl seemed perfect. She had a pitbull-mix that had, in the first year she’d rescued it, attacked several other dogs at the dog park and could never be alone for more than five minutes without destroying something expensive or depressingly irreplaceable. The girl had nonetheless continued caring for and committed to rehabilitating the dog into public life no matter what level of personal patience, side-eyed scorn, or monetary loss she experienced. The pup was kicked out of three different obedience classes for a variety of third-strike policies as well as refunded payment-in-full from two different personal trainers before the girl took it on herself to train the dog. It took over a year before she was comfortable walking the dog in the daylight around other people. When the boy arrived at the new girl’s place for the first time he was greeted by a smiling dog that whimpered instead of barked, sat stoically on demand, and could use a non-verbal child’s keypad for communicating its desire to eat, go outside, or be taken for a walk. ‘Use your words’ the girl would sing to the dog when it mishit a key or two and uttered broken phrases instead of ‘FOOD’.

He was utterly amazed. They sat on her porch in a rough part of town smelling cigarettes and marijuana from the next door neighbors and talked about what they wanted out of a successful relationship. They were in unanimous agreement about God, politics, education, and drugs. She held his hand and he felt his pants move. He could not believe his luck in finding a woman who checked all the boxes he desired so quickly after getting his heart broken. All the pain he had felt was as distant as his childhood, just a grey object to learn from rather than mourn its untimely demise. They had planned for him to spend only the night but she asked if he wanted to spend the week. At the beginning of his last relationship he had done a similar thing—let red-hot romance get the best of him and spent an entire work-week with the ex. Because this girl seemed so perfect he chose to wait, to go back home a few hundred miles and let their relationship bud naturally rather than all at once as his last had done. The girl seemed disappointed but understanding. He would send a small but meaningful gift as soon as he got home that would let her know he was serious. He was positive this was something special.

They saw each other once more before she broke it off. The distance was too great, she said, and she was about to move for work. He didn’t try to change her mind though it was the only thing he desired. He knew by now he didn’t have the power to change girls’ minds, only their hearts—and if hers wouldn’t open she would have to crack it herself. He just let her go, deleted her number, and never listened to Brahms again.