My wing man is a cock block
I spent the first four years in Los Angeles dating voraciously, trying to make up for my career-first East coast days. I’m now a dog owner, which has kind of changed my outlook on dating. You are going to have to be better than my dog and my vibrator to get me out of the house.
That rule quickly changed on Thursday for the veep debate. I had a gentleman caller (GC) over for drink Palin Bingo. GC and I were re-introduced a few months ago by a mutual friend and have had a great time bitching about dating in LA, getting fit, writing, and everything in between. It was nice to have a man over. I didn’t have to leave my dog.
But Tex quickly established who was top dog when he crawled on to the sofa and pressed his nose up to GC’s hip. I was permitted to sit sideways beside the boys. After a few “mavericks” and “main streets,” Tex realized this guy was ok and he demoted himself down to his day bed on the floor. GC was approved.
Tex is the big brother I never had. He watches my back. Thankfully, he leaves the room when he hears the vibrator.