The Luv Doc: Single Women With Grocery Dogs

Dear Luv Doc,

I work in and live near the Domain. Usually on Friday or Saturday night I go to the Whole Foods there to pick up something to eat because it’s an easy walk. Sometimes I will hang around and drink a beer and I might end up talking to people I wouldn’t otherwise meet. About a month ago a woman sat down next to me with her dog. He wandered to my table and I started petting him and we struck up a conversation. I have seen her since a few other times and she is really nice to me. I think I might like to ask her out, but I’m not sure if she likes me, or like likes me. How do I know? And what’s the best way to ask her? I think she might be out of my league, but I want to move our relationship to the next level. I think it could work because at least her dog likes me.  – Heavy Petter

Look, I’m the Luv Doc, not the “Like Doc” – and I’m definitely not the “Like Like Doc,” even though that’s a much more original title. It’s also needlessly wordy, which is kind of my schtick. That said, I am a couple of decades in on what was from the outset an unoriginal, tediously shopworn title, so there’s no going back. Let that be a lesson to anyone who lets their friends con the receptionist into thinking the name they’re using is what people actually call you. Nip that shit in the bud or you might be forever associated with a smarmy moniker favored by terrible DJs and dudes on Tinder who like to think of themselves as players. To be brutally honest, I consider the Luv Doc to be the nominal equivalent of using “Cunning Linguist” as a username or incorporating “69” into your personalized license plate. No. Not even if that really was your birth year. In the same sense, calling yourself the Luv Doc is the surest sign you’re anything but, which is why I totally respect all the casual readers who pick up a Chronicle, scan past the name of this column in the back of the paper and think, “Yeah, maybe not.” Fair play.

Now that we’ve ticked off that completely unnecessary disclaimer, we should probably shoot for the stars and solve your dilemma. As near as I can tell, what you have described above is an acquaintanceship, not a relationship. It’s still technically a ship, I guess, but it’s flying a nondescript gray flag and trolling through shallow waters, so maybe don’t give her your apartment key just yet. For all you know, her Tinder profile might be “Cunning Linguist.” That’s a solid no. Not even if she’s a lesbian and an English professor. No. Not even with a cute grocery dog. What you can do is have a few more beers at Whole Foods®. You should probably go for a blindingly strong IPA because, as you said, you live in walking distance and a little liquid courage might be just the thing to push you past what might possibly be a temporary moment of awkwardness.

The transition from casual, friendly conversation to “Please consider me as a potential sexual partner” is always a bit fraught ... as it should be. For women, giving any kind of attention to the opposite sex can often be construed as romantic interest even when it’s anything but. The most innocuous conversation, like “What kind of IPA is that?” or “My grocery dog loves attention” can be taken as a come-on. So sure, it’s great that this woman’s dog likes you, but very likely that dog might also like to eat poop and roll around in rotting snake carcasses. Also, dogs pretty much love everything they like. They really don’t have much of a throttle emotionally. It’s part of their charm and it also can be a bit maddening when they’re dry-humping your nana.

I don’t want you to think that I am trying to scare you away from this woman. I just want you to be realistic. I want you to take your time and be sure you really have some unique chemistry rather than assuming that because she is willing to talk to you she is also willing to make the beast with two backs. That’s a little further down the line in my opinion, but if you insist on accelerating the process without a decent amount of data, at least be prepared to be a good sport if she shoots you down. No hating. No stalking. Just mark it down as a no and move on. And who knows? If single women with grocery dogs actually read this column – which they surely do – I can only imagine they will be down at the Whole Foods Domain to check you out shortly.