I’m trying to hire The Dog, so he can help me figure out what men want. I know I’m supposed to be focused on what I want, and I will. I promise you, I will. But what I want most is Adam and I have absolutely no idea how to act around a guy. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, and I’m terrified that I’ll get to Adam’s office and freak out from the pressure and start talking like an imbecile, and blow it.”
When we returned to the house, I glanced at my answering machine to see if The Dog had returned my call. Greta picked up my pad of paper. “Waiting for The Dog?” she asked.
“Kind of,” I admitted. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t call back.”
“What would you say to spending Christmas day with my family, the whole slew of us?” Greta offered.
“Okay.”
“Okay, then. I’m going to do something for you now. Let me restate that I think asking advice from a man who calls himself a dog is absurd, but you’re not going to truly appreciate how useless he is until you see for yourself. I’ll get through to him and schedule your silly little appointment, but I guarantee he’ll refuse your offer. I take that back. After meeting him, you’ll see that you don’t need his advice and won’t offer anything other than a one-way trip to the front door.”
“But how? I’ve called him eight times already,” I explained.
“Does tonight work for you?” Greta asked.
I nodded my head. “But how are you going to...?”
“Should he come to the house or do you prefer to meet at the coffee shop?”
“Um, here, but, he’s not — ”
She put her hand up to interrupt me and began dialing.
“He’s probably on vacation,” I whispered.
Suddenly, Greta began speaking in an impeccable English accent. Impeccable enough, I hoped, to fool Mike’s English secretary. “Yes, good morning. Please connect me with The Dog’s office.”
“Drop the accent, his assistant is ...” I couldn’t finish.
“Yes, good morning, Gwen. This is Felicity from Claudia Schiffer’s office. Ms. Schiffer is a huge fan of The Dog’s. She thinks his column is quite clever. She’ll be stopping over in San Diego this evening and wonders if Mr. Dougherty would care to join her for dinner.” She paused again. “Yes, of course I’ll hold.” Pause. Greta’s facial expression signaled that Mike had picked up the line. “Yes, morning to you, too, Mr. Dougherty ... yes, of course, Dog. Okay, lovely, lovely, Claudia will be delighted. Let me give you the address of the private home she will be staying at. I trust your discretion will be used with this information, correct?” Pause. “Wonderful. Let’s say seven then.” Greta gave him my address despite my repeated pleas to hang up the phone.
“What the hell did you do?!” I shouted when she hung up the phone.
“I arranged for you to meet with this Dog person. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Greta, this is not a friendly dog! Read this column.” I shoved my open copy of Maximum for Him at her. As she scanned the magazine, I continued, “He’s going to come over here, see that I am the furthest thing from Claudia Schiffer, and God knows what.” I started pacing around frantically as she read the article. “He’s going to freak out when he gets here. Call and cancel. Give me the phone so I can cancel. He’s going to totally flip out when he gets here and there’s no Claudia Schiffer. Hey Dog, guess who’s not coming to dinner? Instead you’ve got me?!”
Greta laughed as she looked up from the magazine. “Mona, this is what you said you wanted. If you want a male consultant, you have to meet him first. I set up the meeting, that’s all. If this is what you want, you have to make it happen.”
Is this what I wanted? Why hire a guy coach who’s a dog when Adam is a prince? Was Mike like my New York? If I could make it there, I could make it anywhere? Or was I just using him as another delay tactic? Another excuse to prolong going for
When we returned to the house, I glanced at my answering machine to see if The Dog had returned my call. Greta picked up my pad of paper. “Waiting for The Dog?” she asked.
“Kind of,” I admitted. “I don’t understand why he doesn’t call back.”
“What would you say to spending Christmas day with my family, the whole slew of us?” Greta offered.
“Okay.”
“Okay, then. I’m going to do something for you now. Let me restate that I think asking advice from a man who calls himself a dog is absurd, but you’re not going to truly appreciate how useless he is until you see for yourself. I’ll get through to him and schedule your silly little appointment, but I guarantee he’ll refuse your offer. I take that back. After meeting him, you’ll see that you don’t need his advice and won’t offer anything other than a one-way trip to the front door.”
“But how? I’ve called him eight times already,” I explained.
“Does tonight work for you?” Greta asked.
I nodded my head. “But how are you going to...?”
“Should he come to the house or do you prefer to meet at the coffee shop?”
“Um, here, but, he’s not — ”
She put her hand up to interrupt me and began dialing.
“He’s probably on vacation,” I whispered.
Suddenly, Greta began speaking in an impeccable English accent. Impeccable enough, I hoped, to fool Mike’s English secretary. “Yes, good morning. Please connect me with The Dog’s office.”
“Drop the accent, his assistant is ...” I couldn’t finish.
“Yes, good morning, Gwen. This is Felicity from Claudia Schiffer’s office. Ms. Schiffer is a huge fan of The Dog’s. She thinks his column is quite clever. She’ll be stopping over in San Diego this evening and wonders if Mr. Dougherty would care to join her for dinner.” She paused again. “Yes, of course I’ll hold.” Pause. Greta’s facial expression signaled that Mike had picked up the line. “Yes, morning to you, too, Mr. Dougherty ... yes, of course, Dog. Okay, lovely, lovely, Claudia will be delighted. Let me give you the address of the private home she will be staying at. I trust your discretion will be used with this information, correct?” Pause. “Wonderful. Let’s say seven then.” Greta gave him my address despite my repeated pleas to hang up the phone.
“What the hell did you do?!” I shouted when she hung up the phone.
“I arranged for you to meet with this Dog person. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Greta, this is not a friendly dog! Read this column.” I shoved my open copy of Maximum for Him at her. As she scanned the magazine, I continued, “He’s going to come over here, see that I am the furthest thing from Claudia Schiffer, and God knows what.” I started pacing around frantically as she read the article. “He’s going to freak out when he gets here. Call and cancel. Give me the phone so I can cancel. He’s going to totally flip out when he gets here and there’s no Claudia Schiffer. Hey Dog, guess who’s not coming to dinner? Instead you’ve got me?!”
Greta laughed as she looked up from the magazine. “Mona, this is what you said you wanted. If you want a male consultant, you have to meet him first. I set up the meeting, that’s all. If this is what you want, you have to make it happen.”
Is this what I wanted? Why hire a guy coach who’s a dog when Adam is a prince? Was Mike like my New York? If I could make it there, I could make it anywhere? Or was I just using him as another delay tactic? Another excuse to prolong going for
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