A cautionary tale: The night before moving to California I spent the evening with friends, Percy, and Judd—a dog who "hates women." (Judd's owner was out of town, so we joked about how the dog's personality reflected the owner's struggle to find love in New York City.) I spent five hours playing with Judd, increasingly confident his sexism had been exaggerated. Suddenly he gave me a strange look and a slight growl. I spoke sweetly, reassuringly, and he responded by biting me on the lip. Had my cooing tone suddenly sounded too "girlie"? Did he catch a whiff of perfume or shampoo? Who knows. What can be said for sure is that Judd acted true to form, and that I was lucky he didn't commit to the bite.