There’s something I’ve been meaning to share for a while now.
It’s this: I am not lying, and I am only slightly exaggerating, when I tell you that nine times out of ten, when I see a man on or near campus who appears good-looking, it is the same guy.
Not only is it the same guy, it is the same guy who I have already gone out with.
We met a few months after I moved here, when I was busy pseudo dating Tall Anglo and caught Attractive Man staring at me unabashedly at a coffee shop. I approached, boldly, and gave him my phone number. He called and we went on one completely pleasant coffee date, during which we realized that he’d had a similar interaction with my–for the record, very stunning–roommate at a campus library. Post-date he texted me that he’d had a really nice time. I never heard from him again.
(He is always very friendly when we run into each other; sometimes he even stares in a similar fashion to the way he did when we initially met. Only this time it makes me feel less intrigued and more contemplative of hitting him.)
Why have I been wanting to share this, you ask? Because it seems to capture, as well as anything could, why it is that I am moving closer to the idea of no longer looking for a boyfriend in this city and instead looking for a dog.