There are dog people and there are cat people. Sometimes, you get those who love both equally. Then there are those who don’t like either or.  Quite frankly, I don’t trust a person who doesn’t like neither cats or dogs inasmuch as it creeps me out when a person likes their house pet just a little bit too much.

Now before you go calling me bitch for claiming there is such a thing as “liking one’s house pet too much”, I’ll have you know, I’ve had my own cats and dogs before and they all slept in my bed. I know what it means to love one’s own pet that much and I know that within due time, I’d be able to love someone else’s pet like my own. It just takes some warming up.

When I first came across “Mitchell’s” profile, I should have known we’d be incompatible. His main photo showed him decked out in camping gear. I’m the worst camper ever and I hate it a lot. Nonetheless, he had a catchy catch phrase that referenced my favorite Allen Ginsberg, poem, “Howl”. I’d later learn that he’s never read or even heard of Ginsberg but was actually alluding to his dog, Ralph whom he insisted was the absolute “best dog ever” and I had to meet them both immediately. Then he asked, “What are you up to today?”

It was a Saturday and I had no other plans except going to the movies solo so I thought, “Why not? Let’s meet in the West Village.” We picked a spot to convene an hour from then and planned to walk around for a while. It would be a lighthearted way for us all to get acquainted and besides, Ralph hadn’t gone out all morning.

I arrived at our agreed upon landmark a few minutes late and approaching, from the distance, Mitchell looked better in real life but Ralph was a disheveled mess whose eye crustaceans I could smell from miles away. Why bother even having a dog if you let it look like a homeless mutt? Immediately, I wasn’t happy about having to hang with rancid Ralph and worried I’d eventually have to pet him and make pretend I didn’t mind his dog hadn’t been bathed in years.

I played polite, knowing right away Mitchell wasn’t the guy for me, remembering his camping photos and catching whiff of his crusty canine. But he was nice and funny which made me stop myself from wishing that I’d never showed up. He could become a friend of mine. Then I thought, why does every date have to turn into something more than just a date? This epiphany was worth the stroll around town with this stranger and his stinky dog.

For months, I’d been internet dating, hoping to find “the perfect one” but never considered that maybe, before jumping into a heavy situation where we’d both officially be “dating”, the initial first encounter should be more like a friendship interview. I finally realized the only way this whole internet dating business could work is as a series of friendship interviews.

I looked at Mitchell and reminded myself he’s an exception – in his case, this was not a “friendship interview” since I’d already demoted him from having any possibility of becoming anything more than just a friend at all. As far as I was concerned, Mitchell was already a friend of mine, simple.

Nonetheless, Mitchell made it hard to forget we were on a “date” since he kept asking me all kinds of date-specific type questions like how many kids I’d want to have right down to wanting to know my blood type.

To prove I was just his “friend”, I wanted to show Mitchell that I wasn’t expecting anything from him whatsoever. Walking along, I asked him to stop at a hot dog vendor cart so I could get some water. He tried to pay but I’d already beat him to the chase. In a playful way, I punched his arm and said, “Don’t worry. I got it. Thanks, though.”

“You really should have let me pay for that,” he said to me after I cracked open my bottle of water and took a sip. “Since you’re keeping me company on my walk with Ralph, I wanted to do something nice for you.” I was little bit put off by this. Did he think I was just a friend of his too? And if so, what did I do to make him demote me from date to just a “friend who’s keeping him company while he’s walking his dog.” I wanted to ask but felt that might just raise a bunch of other issues which could turn a nice afternoon nasty. Besides, I didn’t want anything from Mitchell other than his friendship and clearly, I already had that.

“Can I have some water too?” Mitchell asked. I paused to think. Would I let my friends drink from the same bottle of water as me? Yes I would. And so, Mitchell could too.

Much to my dismay, instead of drinking water like a normal human being, Mitchell proceeded to pour water straight into his dog’s mouth, letting his dog’s tongue slurp  droplets from the around the edge of my Evian bottle. I was completely in awe. “What do you think you’re doing?” I protested. “It’s a hot day and Ralph needs water too,” he answered. In shock, I demanded to know, “Why didn’t you buy him his own bottle of water?” “Because I didn’t think it would be a big deal if he had some of yours. Any humane person would let a thirsty animal drink their water.” He tried to make me feel bad but the only thing that would make me feel anything close to bad at his point would be drinking from that very polluted bottle where his dirty dog just slobbered about.

Before I could retort and defend myself, Mitchell crouched down and caressed Ralph by the face to talk to him. “You’re such a good boy. Yes, a good boy, you are.” And to my amazement, he sat there kissing Ralph repeatedly on the lips or mouth, whatever you want to call its anatomy. “Good boy, good boy.” Then, Mitchell turned with an outstretched arm, returning my water bottle to me. “Here. You can have your water back.”

I didn’t want my water back. “You keep it. Let Ralph keep it,” I insisted. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of germs,” he replied, choking back a laugh. “Yes, I mean no. I mean, would you look at the time?” I checked my watch in a smooth twist of the wrist. “You are!” he laughed even harder. “You’re afraid of dog germs.”

I was trying so hard to stick to the self-proclaimed vow I’d made with myself days earlier about trying to be nicer to people. This guy was really testing my threshold. I smiled, took a deep breath but all I could say was, “No, I’m going home to French kiss my own dog now. You inspired me.”

I think he knew I was joking or maybe he thought I was being serious. Either or, our friendship-interview-slash-date was over for good and I couldn’t be happier. For the first time in a while, there was no post-date follow-up phone call where I had to explain why it wasn’t going to work. He knew and I knew that we were a rough match from the start and luckily, we’re both going to survive. Some matches are rougher than others and in this case, at least from my perspective, he was a little too “ruff”.

Do you think he was overreacting? Are we?