Page 9 of Your Pace Or Mine

Since when do you love dogs? Have you ever even had a dog?

Mr. Six:

I like the idea of dogs, okay?

You’re the guy who borrows a friend’s pet to pick up women at the dog park.

I’m not saying I’ve done it, but I’m also not saying I wouldn’t do it.

SHAMELESS.

FIVE

SEBASTIAN

This might be the weirdest dating app message I’ve received, and that’s saying something.

YouveGoatMail:

I am an animal loving yogi who leads goat yoga classes, so if you like to get sweaty and dirty, I’m your girl!

I try to imagine how yoga in a barnyard works. Typically, I assess possible matches based on what I’m looking for—a fun evening with zero strings—but now that I’m going to post about my experience, I also need to explore any matches that could make a great story. The goat woman would check that box, though I hope we’d get to clean up after the yoga sessions because manure is not the smell I’m looking for during an amorous encounter. I’m open to a lot of things in bed and outside of bed, but farms are not my thing.

How did I even get to contemplating barnyard yoga? Oh right. I had trouble focusing after I sent Ashley the paperwork, unsure if she’d tear it apart. Seth kept shooting me looks like he was sure something was up but didn’t want to say anything. After the office, I pushed myself during a workout in the condo gym to take the edge off my anxiety, then tried to work on my laptop, but I ended up staring at the screen, finally determining it a lost cause. Hence why I’m now trying to decide whether goats are a deal-breaker.

I put off messaging the goat lady and start dinner instead. I usually meal prep on the weekends so I can have something balanced and healthy on the nights I’m not out. My mom calls as I’m putting pre-cut vegetables and a chicken breast in the oven.

“Sebastian, you’re at home,” she says, her voice raised in surprise, like she didn’t expect me to answer.

“How did you know?”

“No background chatter, no clinking on plates, no music,” she replies. Wow, are my habits that obvious? She chuckles, adding. “Also, you picked up right away and didn’t immediately say you can’t talk for long.”

That stings. I try to be available in case she’s lonely. She and my former stepfather had a busy social calendar with bridge clubs and golf foursomes, but since they split a few years ago, she doesn’t get out as much. Raymond was the social director of their relationship. I worry that I’ve dropped the ball and am not around enough for her.

I decide not to follow this train of thought. “Yep, I’m making dinner. So, how’ve you been, Mom?”

“Oh, I’m good. Your brother came by on the weekend, and I sent him home with lots of leftovers.”

I can only imagine how much food Curtis had to tote home with him. Probably enough to feed him for a week, though at twenty-three, he and his roommates must appreciate not having to cook for days. God only knows what they’re eating otherwise. The last time I stopped by, there was nothing in the fridge except beer, coffee creamer, and seven limes.

“That’s nice.”

She doesn’t respond to my comment, instead going down the list of updates for everyone I know even tangentially—my half sister Penelope, my Aunt Barb, several cousins, her best friend Wendy, Wendy’s cat. I guess it has been a while; she’s been storing these up. Even though I don’t particularly care about Wendy or Mittens, I appreciate that my mom wants me to feel connected to everyone.

“That’s great Mom,” I interrupt before she can give more details on Mittens’ new diet. “Just a sec. My oven timer went off.”

“Oh, sure, Sebastian. I’m so glad you’re eating real food and not take out. You need to keep healthy with all those nights out. By the way, are there any⁠—”

“Nope, no ladies,” I interject. I saw that coming a mile away. She always asks about a new girlfriend as though I might have magically changed into the marrying type overnight. “I’m enjoying the single life.”

“Well, don’t enjoy it too much or too long.” She chuckles a little.

I roll my eyes and remind myself she does this because she cares, and she truly believes the best path to my happiness is marriage to a nice woman followed by a three-bedroom house and a couple of kids. Even if I wanted that, I don’t know who can afford that kind of life in Toronto these days. But I let her dream if that makes her happy.

“Thanks, Mom. I have to eat now, but I’ll come by soon, okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”