Then there was that weekend we went to Florida, where we had to take the dog along because “we CAN’T leave him by himself!” And you somehow got it classified as a “service dog” so you could take it on the plane, even though the only “service” it offered was panting very loudly on that poor bastard who got stuck sitting next to you, who I'm pretty sure was live-tweeting the whole miserable experience.
Those “pet-friendly” hotels and restaurants weren't exactly the hospitality highlights of Florida. And that spontaneous overnight trip to Bimini I wanted to take was out of the question. Because the dog didn't have the right shots, and by the time we got back it would have eaten our $200 pet deposit.
Your dog always comes first. I already have to compete with your parents, siblings, friends, boss, and therapist. Having to compete with a being covered in fur with a proclivity for licking its own ass is where the line must be drawn.
Now you may say, "Well, if you’re not into dogs I don’t want to date you anyway." And that’s all well and good. Perhaps we were never meant to be. But understand that while every guy may not have quite the aversion to dogs that I do, none of us like having to base our relationship around your pet.