On dating dogs

There was a time when I insisted on two criteria being met before I'd allow friends to give my number out. First, the matchmakers had to actually KNOW both me and my potential date (or at least they should have met the guy at least once); and second, I wanted to know we had something in common other than that we were both single.

However, following a particularly dry patch, I was considering lowering my criteria to the point of if he trimmed his nose hair before the first date, I would meet him. So when my friend Michal suggested I meet someone she'd heard was nice, but had never met, I decided to give it a go. Ran was the brother of a friend of a friend, and all I knew before the date was that he was my age and lived in Tel Aviv.

A quick pointer about dating people who live in Tel Aviv: If you don't live there yourself, be prepared to travel. A lot. Because people who live in Tel Aviv don't leave the city after dark under any circumstances. The reason is simple - while love may be unconditional, parking is not, and no self-respecting Tel Aviv resident would consider giving up a parking place just to go on a date.

This in mind, Ran and I arranged to meet in Tel Aviv late one Sunday night. The late hour suited me because I was going to a cooking course earlier in the evening and was grateful for the time to go home and shower before the date. The cooking course entailed preparing different types of meat in different types of conditions, and lasted three hours. By the time I walked out of there I smelled like I'd taken a long bath in marinade and dried myself off with a beef pattie.

On my way home, I got a call from Ran that if I didn't mind, he'd like me to come to Tel Aviv earlier for our 'meeting'. I explained that I'd just come out of a cooking course and it would be worth his while to give me time to shower before meeting. But he was insistent that it would make no difference and all-but-pleaded with me to join him at his favourite bar, as soon as possible.

In fact, he said, he and Basel were walking there at that very moment, so the sooner I got there, the better.

"Basel?" I asked.

"My best friend", he responded. "We go everywhere together. I hope you don't mind".

Now I must admit that this was a first for me. It's all very well going on a blind date, smelling like a well-done entrecote, to meet someone I know literally nothing about. But now this was becoming a threesome, and my date was clearly wandering into 'not my thing' territory.

Against all my better instincts, I agreed to meet Ran and Basel at a bar in Tel Aviv. To cover myself, I clarified from the word go that we'd have a quick drink and I would be on my way.
To my relief, I discovered a lovely little bar, with a very non-offensive Ran waiting in it for me. And with Ran was Basel, his 'best friend' - a silver-haired, slim Weimaraner. The Weimaraner in adult form is the closest canine you will find to the equine family. Not clear enough? It's a dog disguised as a horse. Beautiful and almost my height, Basel turned out to be a lot more interested, and a LOT more demonstrative, than his owner.

While Ran and I tried to make small talk, Basel tried to make little puppies. With my leg. It seemed that while the smell of the basted beef may not have had an effect on my date, it was particularly provocative for his best friend, who alternated from rubbing my thighs with his long nose, to grabbing my back with his front legs while being vigorously attentive to my calves with his back legs. And they say males can't multitask…

After half a glass of beer and some subtle attempts to extract the hound's snout from my privates, both Ran and I realized it was a losing battle. Trying to stop Basel from embracing my meaty aroma was nothing less than animal abuse. And there was no way I could continue permitting being petted by a pooch in a public place, so we packed it in early and called it a night.

Needless to say, as happens with the male species when they get their way on the first date - I never heard from the dog again.