He was in his forties, on a first date, walking with a woman and her poodle. He had brought freeze-dried beef-liver treats for the dog, which is a thoughtful way to make a strong first impression with at least one member of the party.
They walked and talked for about an hour, and by his account they got along well. The poodle had its own practical demands. He picked up after it and carried the waste back to the trailhead, a considerate gesture that was not especially glamorous. Romance has always had to share space with municipal responsibilities.
At the end of the walk, he gave the dog its treats and exchanged phone numbers with the woman. He asked if he could give her a hug, and she agreed. The date seemed to have gone well, but afterward he worried he might have been too forward. A hug, in the cold light of memory, can become a surprisingly elaborate piece of evidence.
Then she texted to say she had enjoyed the date and invited him to a concert on Friday. He accepted. The concert was still in the future when he shared the update, but the poodle had already received its treats.
