Archive | 11:12 am

I’d Rather Have an Old Dog

29 Dec

Over drinks last night, my sister, a friend of ours and I started talking about men.  Shocking.  I know.  I’ll have you know we did talk about other things too…like shoes, and shopping, and purses, and glitter, and Tiffany’s, and other things chicks tend to talk about before the topic turns to men.  And it occurred to us that just like none of us have time for a puppy right now, we don’t have time to train a man.

Sure, sure, the puppies are all cute when you first get them home.  They snuggle up to you with their little noses, and you spend your time thinking, “he’s so adorable!”  You pet him, and whisper to him how cute he is, and how you’re going to take care of him.  And he paws you and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes.  Then all hell breaks loose.  He’s peeing on the floor, eating your shoes, jumping all over the furniture, waking you up in the middle of the night, and he won’t stop barking.

Fuck that noise.  Fuck every last musical note.

As young women, we have the same draw towards a man.  They’re all cute and cuddly and can do no wrong.  And if they do, we inevitably forgive them – because they still need to learn – and we go right back to (heavy) petting them.  But peeing on the floor and chewing on shoes is easier to handle than some of the stuff we put up with.  Their late night drunkeness.  Clothes all over the floor.  Dishes left anywhere and everywhere.  Not returning phone calls.  Never doing the laundry.  Dropping the towels on the floor and believing the towel fairy will magically bring them a clean set the next day.  Why do we do it?  We do it for love, and because they’re cute, and because we need them to take out the garbage.  That’s what we tell ourselves.  The truth is we allow that behavior because we’re stupid and we’re young.

The older I get, the picker I get.  I don’t have time for someone who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re.  Or who can’t be bothered to take his dishes to the sink.  Or who thinks it’s okay to spend the day in his sweatpants yelling at the TV while I clean the house and make dinner.  Or who never folds the laundry and then gets angry when his pants are wrinkled and asked me to iron them.  Or whose idea of helping around the house means moving his discarded shoes from one side of the room to the other.

I want a dog who is housebroken, who isn’t going to jump all over me or anyone else who walks in the door, who doesn’t bark at all god damned hours of the night, who can be walked off leash, and who can sleep through the god damned night.  I’ll even give him extra treats and let him sit on the couch.

I expect the same thing out of a man.