Rizz-Less

Some men have the juice, and some do not. The chronicles of dating in a big city in your 20's.

At 12:24 p.m. on a Tuesday, I got a text from the groomer’s office saying Theo, my mini poodle, was almost done with his monthly appointment. The office is a 10-minute walk from my apartment, so I left when I saw it.

It’s now 1:11 p.m., Theo is still in the back getting dapper, and I’m elbows deep in a New York Times article about mouse jigglers being fired by the hundreds in Corporate America.

People come in and out of the naturally lit, upscale grooming office. Freshly groomed dogs are running up to their owners like they haven’t seen them in ages, freshly groomed cats are prancing around on bedazzled leashes, and I see a semi-tall being approaching in my peripheral.

“I’ve seen you here before,” a mysterious voice says.

The voice is clear, and I’m 80% sure this person is talking to me. Still, I’m not concerned enough to acknowledge them because I just started using Apple’s AI Mouse Jiggler, and I have no clue if my company has the software to detect it.

“Hey,” the voice says.

I look up to find a very red man wearing a black tank top with an intense farmer’s tan, black basketball shorts, a fanny pack, a black baseball cap on backward, high-ankle socks, and a pair of fairly new New Balance 408s.

At first glance, he isn’t someone that I would acknowledge in a public setting. He looks like a golden retriever husband with two or three young kids, goes on runs every Saturday morning with them in a stroller, and is a senior-level accountant for some big corporation in the city.

“Hello, sir,” I say as formally as possible.

“Oh, my god. I’m not that old,” he says with a goofy laugh, reaching his hand out to shake mine.

“Is Theo done?” I ask, shaking his hand.

“Is that your puppo’s name?”He asks.

I glare at him, confused, and for a long while, we are silently staring at each other.

“Oh, I don’t work here. I see you here sometimes. I’m Jack, Connor’s dad,” he says showing me his screensaver of a mini goldendoodle.

“Oh, hi. I’m sorry about that,” I say trying to bookmark the part of the article I’m being forced to pause on.

“I’ve seen you here before but I’ve never said hi. I’m Jack,” he says sitting next to me.

For the next ten minutes, Jack asks questions about my dog and tells me all about his dog, what they like to do together, his work as a guitarist, and how he’s getting into running. I got the feeling that he’d been bored in the house all day and just wanted to talk, and even though I would rather be reading the New York Times article, I let him yap.

After 15 minutes, Theo is finally escorted out and I say my goodbyes to Jack.

“I don’t have my phone, but I’d love to give you my number and maybe we meet up for a drink,” Jack says.

“Sounds great,” I say slightly surprised. I didn’t realize him being a chatterbox was because he was interested.

Turns out he isn’t married or in a relationship, has no kids, and is a music producer. I didn’t ask his age, but he’s an older millennial, in other words, probably too old for me, but why not give it a whirl?

Theo and I head home and shortly after I forget the exchange we’d just had.