Dave: Puppy Love

Of course there’s no sure fire way of pulling the girl you fancy. Or for that matter, her ugly friend. And it’s hardly the most original tip in the world but I would advise getting your hands on a dog (logic dictates she’d be overwhelmed by the attention and you won’t need the roofies stashed in your back pocket) Aghast! What a terrible thing to say. Thank god for readers with literacy skills and a sense of humour, eh?

Anyway. Clearly I’m referring to a pooch. One that’s cute, affectionate, with a bounce in its step and a good nose for a hot mama.

So often do we shy away from approaching an attractive stranger based on the worries of not knowing what to say. It’s difficult. Even when a guy is left alone with another guy they’ve only just met at some party or whatever, the initial stilted conversation covers the perfunctory topics of work, how he knows so-and-so, and the awful weather we’ve been having. And that’s when the brain’s not pre-occupied with visualising the other person prancing around in their scanties and wrapping multi-coloured ribbons around your cock like it’s a fucking Maypole. Or perhaps that’s just me? – different strokes an’ all.

An adorable pup provides a whole treasure-trove of chat, coupled with the immediate illusion that you must be a decent bloke for being with such a fun-loving mutt. (Naturally none of this works if the woman in question hates dogs. Then you’d have to aim for being seen as the gracious hero shielding her delicate self from the over-exuberant slobbering of the vile beast – hopefully you’ll be substituting yourself for that role later).

Either way, the right dog can open up a world of potential meetings. I sometimes walk a friend’s beagle puppy through the city. It permits time for contemplation, reflection and a great opportunity to perv. This pup is particularly endearing. And smart enough (or stupid enough, depending upon your take of things) to be easily trained. Together we roam the streets, Shrek and Donkey on another whirlwind adventure, enjoying the splendour of a cosmopolitan city laden with beautiful bodies.

Just the other day, in fact, a gorgeous American art student in her mid-twenties sauntered past in her knee-length boots and some other stuff she was wearing. Facially, she reminded me a little of my ex-girlfriend but I didn’t let that put me off. So, I extended the lead and told Scrabble (for is his name) that the nice lady in front had some doggy-treats in her bag. And off he scampers, dragging me in tow to either apologise profusely or preferably enjoy a friendly discussion about the handsome hound.

And off you go. We wandered around together for half an hour until she suggests coffee (Then of course I start worrying that the whole thing’s going to fall through because I can’t abide coffee, but thanks to the modern era in which we live, the place served tea as well. Close call). We sat and chatted, shared a few self-deprecating laughs and there you have it. A handy method of meeting people.

Admittedly this particular occasion didn’t pan out quite how I had hoped. The chatting and laughter’s all true but when I suggested going for a drink later on in the week, she regretfully raised her right hand to reveal this tacky diamond, following with the words, “I’m so sorry, I’m married.”

Bloody marvellous. Don’t women realise that in this day and age of judgement and paranoia it’s becoming increasingly difficult to simply meet somebody you fancy and go to bed? There’s no room for these nice, friendly people to go around suggesting ‘coffee’ to a veritable stranger unless they want ‘coffee’ too.

Nevertheless, Scrabble and I shall be hitting the town again, now I know the potential for success is out there. Ladies beware. Woof Woof.