because one day this dog is gonna die

my dad is a sensitive guy. he cries at weddings. he cries at commercials during the olympics. he still cries when tiger wins the open. he's a sensitive guy. when my dad was a kid he had a horse named captain. one day captain got sick and died and dad buried him. three years before i was born, my older sister died and my dad buried her. when i was in junior high, we got a poodle. my last year of college, the dog died and my dad buried her.
at the mere mention of these memories, my father gets that teary look in his eyes. he's quiet for a minute. or more. he still mourns. the wounds aren't fresh. but deep. the ache of losing someone you love is a pain that lingers. becomes part of you. i've learned that by watching him.

my kids want a dog.

you might say i've never been great at romantic relationships. i've been the instigator of many'o break up in my pre-marital days. and even though by almost all accounts i was the "blameless one" in my divorce -- that may stand as the exception that proves the rule as i go into this dating world and attempt to forge a meaningful and possibly even, significant romantic relationship.

i'm still seeing the guy. yes. the same one. i'm scared...like seventh circle of hell scared.
why. because
one day this dog is going to die.
in my past life, i liked guys that travel. plenty of space. which i need. lots of give on the relationship tether. the guy travels. quite a bit.

friday night the guy left for a 10-day business/pleasure/holiday excursion to the west coast. saturday night, i had a date. and for the first time (as in first time ever in my entire dating life)--i felt.. .. .. weird about it.. weird? guilt. is that what guilt feels like? about halfway through our fantastic dinner, i was full-on antsy. we kissed a little on the walk to the theater for a comedy show. laughed our butts off. it was great. waiting for the valet, he put his arm around my waist and suggested drinks at a sports bar. i felt myself push away (just a little). i said i was too tired. he took me back to my car and i cut out early. watched the end of the Tech game with my parents. what's up with that.

i don't want a dog.
not because i think my kids are irresponsible or because we're not home enough. but that's an issue. not because i don't like dogs and worry about him chewing up all my shoes, crapping on the floor and tearing out into the street where i'll have to chase him in my pajamas, screaming his name like my idiot neighbor. although i do worry.

i don't want a dog because i know that one day that dog's gonna die. and that will hurt me. it will hurt my kids.it will bring pain into our house. i will have to deal with the ugly matter of body disposal and caring for his memory. i'll probably even cry.
i prefer to avoid that.

saturday night showed me what i didn't want to see. i'm into the guy. let's face it: i'm never too tired for a drink. like. not. ever.
whether the guy is just not that into me or he is or whatever; i realized on my drive home from "the date" that i've already buckled the seatbelt in this relationship jeep and i've got no choice now but to hold on. and ride.

through no conscience decision of my own, i can't date "other men" anymore. even when the guy is out of town. unless i'm willing to feel guilt. not for cheating; (i'm still under a non-exclusivity clause); but i'm taken. even if only in my own mind. and it's not cool to seem available. when you're not.

the whole idea of getting into a *gulp* committed relationship gives me jumbo jitters along the lines of walking down the hall to the room where they do the lethal injections.
i'm terrified to be the girl to the guy.
he's awesome. i'm into him. i should want this. but i know.
this dog is going to die. one day.
i prefer to avoid that.
don't i?
or do i?

is it really better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? really? i mean, i might come out of this as 'A Girlfriend.' good lord. i might actually have 'A Boyfriend.' holy crap.

last christmas my step-mom wanted a dog. she picked out a breed and a size. told my dad what color she wanted. looked up breeders.talked about names. my dad put his proverbial foot down. no dog. essentially he said: "i am not bringing anything new into my life that i might have to bury. i've buried too many things that i love already."

i'm a commitment-phobe.
because i know one day this dog's gonna die.