Sophia Loren Dated Her Dog Too

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ed like I was wearing a pushup bra.The ones danced all night, most nights. Occasionally, one of the ones would grab a stack of water bottles from the bar, but they didn't require food. Also, since Giselle was a master pharmacist, she kept the ones awake but they never crashed. They were like a music box that ran on solar power in <a href="https://www.endesa.com/en/blogs/endesa-s-blog/others/cities-hours-sunlight">Yuma</a>.Giselle used to fight in the alley for sport with her human boyfriend named Fred. It made my relationship with my engineering student feel diluted. I once chased another boy down an alley barefoot on the arctic February ice, but that was only because I cheated on him and felt guilty.It wasn’t love. I was busted and actively protesting too much. I was also a teenager. Drama was my mama. With Giselle, she was fighting Freddy for love. True love.Giselle and Fred had their heated arguments outside my window since we shared an alley. Their nightly performance was my personal Italian soap opera because when she got mad enough, she started yelling in Italian. Poor smalltown Wonderbread Fred didn’t understand a word of Italian or stand a chance against her sexual power.Giselle was a collegiate Sophia Loren. This gorgeous, young, voluptuous Italian girl standing in the alley in her loose kimono, yelled at him like a film star. You had to pity the poor guy who’d won the lottery but had no idea how to manage his winnings. “Freddy! Freddy! What were you thinking? Italian Italian Italian!”Sometimes Cape

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llini ran out her back door and barked at Fred when Giselle wound herself up. I made popcorn, poured myself a mug of wine. I’m a watcher. Otherwise, I would have run outside, stood next to Capellini, and barked at Fred. I like a good fight, especially someone else's good fight. This Italian soap opera was something I could stand behind.I can see why people date their dogs now. My friends rarely tell me about their partners or their Tinder dates, but I hear about their dogs all the time. You can’t believe what Rusty did last night. I was so mad that stewardess made Nacho get back into the box. Scottie is such a good snuggler. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Plato.We’re in love with dogs now, not our people. I thought it was a fad at first when everyone raided the shelters at the beginning of the pandemic, but it’s bigger than that.It’s harder to get a grooming appointment than get a haircut at a top salon. Hotels and Airbnbs that want to survive have to make sure dogs are allowed in the bedrooms.I’m not saying anyone having sex with their dogs. That’s an article of the pervier sort, but I am saying I wouldn't be shocked if people started marrying their pets. I’m not saying they're going to consummate it, but I am saying we humans may need to work a little harder in our relationships if we don’t want to lose our lovers to our Fidos.<a href="https://www.endesa.com/en/blogs/endesa-s-blog/others/cities-hours-sunlight">https://www.endesa.com/en/blogs/endesa-s-blog/others/cities-hours-sunlight</a></article></body>

Who else is dating Fido?

Remember college? When we dated people? That’s how I remember it. I know many of you have dated human beings since college, but the buck stopped there for me.

We were all dating homo sapiens in our youth. A couple of women I knew were also dating their dogs, but they had boyfriends. Were the dogs beards? I don’t think so. I think it was more compartmentalized polyamorous. One relationship was sexual. One relationship was amore.

I knew one woman who was dating a human guy named Fred, but her true love was her dog, Capellini. This young woman, Giselle Brambilla, was the kind of female I always wanted to be. Sexy, smart, bilingual, made her own drugs.

She was a pharmacy student. People had nicknamed her best friends “the size one club.” Me and Giselle were size sixes with boobs. We looked more like the mommies of ultra-feminine, flat-chested androgenous sons who we took out dancing.

I loved the size one club. The ones were committed party girls who shopped in the junior section, so whenever I borrowed their T-shirts, I looked like I was wearing a pushup bra.

The ones danced all night, most nights. Occasionally, one of the ones would grab a stack of water bottles from the bar, but they didn't require food. Also, since Giselle was a master pharmacist, she kept the ones awake but they never crashed. They were like a music box that ran on solar power in Yuma.

Giselle used to fight in the alley for sport with her human boyfriend named Fred. It made my relationship with my engineering student feel diluted. I once chased another boy down an alley barefoot on the arctic February ice, but that was only because I cheated on him and felt guilty.

It wasn’t love. I was busted and actively protesting too much. I was also a teenager. Drama was my mama. With Giselle, she was fighting Freddy for love. True love.

Giselle and Fred had their heated arguments outside my window since we shared an alley. Their nightly performance was my personal Italian soap opera because when she got mad enough, she started yelling in Italian. Poor smalltown Wonderbread Fred didn’t understand a word of Italian or stand a chance against her sexual power.

Giselle was a collegiate Sophia Loren. This gorgeous, young, voluptuous Italian girl standing in the alley in her loose kimono, yelled at him like a film star. You had to pity the poor guy who’d won the lottery but had no idea how to manage his winnings. “Freddy! Freddy! What were you thinking? Italian Italian Italian!”

Sometimes Capellini ran out her back door and barked at Fred when Giselle wound herself up. I made popcorn, poured myself a mug of wine. I’m a watcher. Otherwise, I would have run outside, stood next to Capellini, and barked at Fred. I like a good fight, especially someone else's good fight. This Italian soap opera was something I could stand behind.

I can see why people date their dogs now. My friends rarely tell me about their partners or their Tinder dates, but I hear about their dogs all the time. You can’t believe what Rusty did last night. I was so mad that stewardess made Nacho get back into the box. Scottie is such a good snuggler. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to Plato.

We’re in love with dogs now, not our people. I thought it was a fad at first when everyone raided the shelters at the beginning of the pandemic, but it’s bigger than that.

It’s harder to get a grooming appointment than get a haircut at a top salon. Hotels and Airbnbs that want to survive have to make sure dogs are allowed in the bedrooms.

I’m not saying anyone having sex with their dogs. That’s an article of the pervier sort, but I am saying I wouldn't be shocked if people started marrying their pets. I’m not saying they're going to consummate it, but I am saying we humans may need to work a little harder in our relationships if we don’t want to lose our lovers to our Fidos.