Shelby is a volunteer at the Humane Society on Fifty-Ninth Street. She began with dog walking, coaxing frightened creatures large and small out of their cages after their arrival, training suspicious pit bulls and overwrought dachshunds to walk calmly on a leash. She’s quickly progressed to being a member of the intake team for abandoned and abused dogs. She’s there on Sunday afternoons and Monday nights at the intake desk, ready with blankets and kibble. She is in charge of the initial exam before the new arrival goes to be seen by a vet tech. Are there wounds, worms, fleas? Is the dog friendly, frightened, aggressive? The adoptable puppies and dogs bring Shelby joy. They are bathed and fed and photographed for the newsletter and website. But then there are the old dogs, the ones who refuse to look up because they’ve been beaten or neglected. Every night it is a challenge not to bring another dog home.
Shelby understands abandonment and loneliness. Her desire to do right for these creatures is what fuels her. She works odd hours, fills in when other people go on vacation, is willing to deal with the vicious, the mistrustful, the beaten, the desperate. At night, she cuddles up with the General and Blinkie. They both snore, but she wouldn’t think of tossing them out of bed. She thinks of Ben, and how she didn’t value him when she had him. Some nights she dreams of Helene, and when she wakes she’s crying. She hasn’t gotten a postcard in some time, and what she misses most is someone knowing she’s alive.
People like Shelby don’t beg for human companionship. They don’t sign up at dating services, or write profiles, or wait in a Chinese restaurant with sweaty palms wearing a black dress. They don’t even wear dresses, but there she is on a Thursday night ordering a Tsingtao beer as she waits for the stranger she met online to appear. She blames Maravelle for convincing her she should get back into the dating world after the mess with Harper. Likely she’s here because loneliness can drive even the most alienated person to attempt to make contact with another soul, even when it’s via a soulless medium. Loneliness is something Shelby thought she could overcome. She told herself being alone was what she wanted, but lately she finds herself looking at couples and hating them just because they’re happy. She blames herself for her situation. She ditched a true-blue boyfriend for a married man. She never asked the right questions, like Why are you still living with your wife if you’re so crazy about me? or What do you do every other night of the week? Now a year has passed since the breakup with Harper. Would she even remember how to have sex? Does she still have a heart left to break? She watches movies she would have had contempt for in the past, sappy romantic comedies, and she actually cries when star-crossed lovers find their way back to each other. She’s sat through Bridget Jones’s Diary fifteen times. Sometimes the only person she speaks to during an entire weekend is one of the delivery guys from Hunan Kitchen. The sad guy has disappeared, and now there’s a new person every time. Shelby has the feeling all of the delivery guys refer to her as the crazy girl who can’t shut up. They probably draw straws to see who’s the unlucky one to bring her General Tso’s chicken and steamed rice.
It took two weeks for Shelby to complete her dating profile. She’d written term papers in less time. She couldn’t seem to get it right. She had no desire to look inside her soul and analyze her needs. She couldn’t write down the truth, which is simply that she needs someone to remind her she’s alive.
Twenty-five-year-old woman who carries around guilt, sorrow, and strange desires looking for a man between the ages 20 and 35 who knows how to laugh. I would rather run through the park with a bulldog than have a diamond ring. I don’t care what you look like and I hope you don’t care about that either. I’m so pale some people assume I’m a vampire. I’m not afraid of a fight. I don’t drive or wear lipstick.
Turn-ons: Chinese food, New York City, fire escapes, lost souls.
Turn-offs: people, the past, men who are liars.
When she sent her profile in, someone from the dating service named Mandy Cohen phoned to suggest she make certain changes before posting. “This is pretty harsh,” Mandy told her. So now her profile is simplified.
Unusual woman looking for interesting man.
Loves Chinese food, long walks, New York City.
Shelby insisted on tagging on a line. She needed a statement of purpose, otherwise she would seem like an empty shell.