Every good story needs a good cast of characters.
Heidi: A successful woman of technology sales who dresses in curvy skirts and boots that make a statement, she's currently dating a guy who's also in sales. They're in love and quite attached--within a week of their first date, he'd essentially moved into her DUMBO loft. She quickly discovered, however, that he was a very heavy drinker and was finding dealing with it--and him--to be something of a struggle.
Nora: An overqualified executive assistant with great fashion sense, especially for accessorizing. Currently in a relationship with a co-worker who was still married and living with his wife when they first hooked up. For the first three months they were on-again, off-again, as he was having trouble committing. At this point in time, he's moved into his own place, started divorce proceedings and is making an effort to commit.
Kevin: Co-owner of a branding business. He has typical straight-guy fashion abilities, meaning lots of T-shirts and Brooklyn hoodies. Currently in a relationship with a woman who can be described alternately as "very Hollywood" or "high maintenance." He's admitted that he was so concerned with whether she liked him for the first few months that he never bothered to figure out if he liked her. He's starting to figure that out now.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #100: The Way to a Girl's Heart
See The Downtown Hipster for the background on this one.
Date #2: It took two weeks to set up our second date--even though we were meeting under the auspices of a "friendly" get-together. We thought it would be fun to do something on a weekday, since we were both mostly unemployed, but he kept getting called in to work on various freelance projects at the last minute, or so he said.
Still rusty with my dating skills, I was the one to throw out there that we meet up at the MOMA for the Tim Burton exhibit. I suppose I should have just let him make the plans, but I wanted to see the show before it left and he appeared to need help. He said that was a great idea, he had a membership and that he'd meet me at the MOMA bar at noon, which, having observed his drinking skills from our first date, I wasn't thrilled about.
Signs of Hope: We never specified which MOMA entrance we would meet at, so by the time we texted and phoned to find each other and he came bounding toward me, we were already laughing. The ice was broken and I suddenly knew I was in trouble. The trouble usually starts with me realizing, "He's cute" in a way that really does use italics.
Wandering the exhibit was fun, and though it was hard to concentrate due to high levels of giddiness, we agreed Tim Burton must be a Ramones fan because he puts Joey Ramone-like stripes on almost everything. Afterward, standing outside in the cold, we were trying to figure out where to go for lunch.
"I leave it up to you," I said.
"How about Fred's. it's the restaurant at the top of Barney's. I go there with my mom when she's in town," he said.
I was beginning to get it: he had high-class vision somewhere in his downtown attitude. As soon as we walked in, I felt like we were crashing some kind of Upper East Side reception.
They gave us a corner table, which was too perfect for our catty agenda because we proceeded to scrutinize the other lunchgoers, guessing which were Friday afternoon affairs and what exactly the percentage of plastic-to-real was in the room. I laughed til I cried. I was so at ease that when the waitress asked if we wanted to take our leftovers and #100 said he didn't do leftovers, I said, "I do."
Afterward, I visited the ladies room and when I walked back out and walked up to him, he kissed me. Giddy, indeed.
We took the escalator down from Fred's, ogling the clothes. He tried to impress me with his knowledge of fashion, guessing that one particular crinkly dress was an Issey Miyake. It was a good guess, but it wasn't. We walked across the bottom of Central Park toward Columbus Circle, during which I confided my somewhat twisted, but unrequited, desire to be a high-class hooker. He said, "Yeah, my buddies will say, 'Hey, where's your girl? And I'll say, 'She's with another dude, but it's cool.'" I was sort of excited at the prospect of being "his girl."
Once at Columbus Circle, we wound up on a sofa at the Samsung store in the Time Warner Center where I had the unmistakable urge to melt into him.
Red Flags: None to speak of, although we did part ways with no real plan for a third date.
Turning Point: The moment I saw him at the MOMA, I was hooked.
Diagnosis: For him: Interested? Yes. Emotionally available? Too soon to tell.
For me: I haven't really even dated anyone in three years, so just the fact that I'm attracted to someone and it's gone further than a far-off crush is kind of thrilling. Plus, Tim Burton and Fred's turned out to be the way to my heart.
Date #2: It took two weeks to set up our second date--even though we were meeting under the auspices of a "friendly" get-together. We thought it would be fun to do something on a weekday, since we were both mostly unemployed, but he kept getting called in to work on various freelance projects at the last minute, or so he said.
Still rusty with my dating skills, I was the one to throw out there that we meet up at the MOMA for the Tim Burton exhibit. I suppose I should have just let him make the plans, but I wanted to see the show before it left and he appeared to need help. He said that was a great idea, he had a membership and that he'd meet me at the MOMA bar at noon, which, having observed his drinking skills from our first date, I wasn't thrilled about.
Signs of Hope: We never specified which MOMA entrance we would meet at, so by the time we texted and phoned to find each other and he came bounding toward me, we were already laughing. The ice was broken and I suddenly knew I was in trouble. The trouble usually starts with me realizing, "He's cute" in a way that really does use italics.
Wandering the exhibit was fun, and though it was hard to concentrate due to high levels of giddiness, we agreed Tim Burton must be a Ramones fan because he puts Joey Ramone-like stripes on almost everything. Afterward, standing outside in the cold, we were trying to figure out where to go for lunch.
"I leave it up to you," I said.
"How about Fred's. it's the restaurant at the top of Barney's. I go there with my mom when she's in town," he said.
I was beginning to get it: he had high-class vision somewhere in his downtown attitude. As soon as we walked in, I felt like we were crashing some kind of Upper East Side reception.
They gave us a corner table, which was too perfect for our catty agenda because we proceeded to scrutinize the other lunchgoers, guessing which were Friday afternoon affairs and what exactly the percentage of plastic-to-real was in the room. I laughed til I cried. I was so at ease that when the waitress asked if we wanted to take our leftovers and #100 said he didn't do leftovers, I said, "I do."
Afterward, I visited the ladies room and when I walked back out and walked up to him, he kissed me. Giddy, indeed.
We took the escalator down from Fred's, ogling the clothes. He tried to impress me with his knowledge of fashion, guessing that one particular crinkly dress was an Issey Miyake. It was a good guess, but it wasn't. We walked across the bottom of Central Park toward Columbus Circle, during which I confided my somewhat twisted, but unrequited, desire to be a high-class hooker. He said, "Yeah, my buddies will say, 'Hey, where's your girl? And I'll say, 'She's with another dude, but it's cool.'" I was sort of excited at the prospect of being "his girl."
Once at Columbus Circle, we wound up on a sofa at the Samsung store in the Time Warner Center where I had the unmistakable urge to melt into him.
Red Flags: None to speak of, although we did part ways with no real plan for a third date.
Turning Point: The moment I saw him at the MOMA, I was hooked.
Diagnosis: For him: Interested? Yes. Emotionally available? Too soon to tell.
For me: I haven't really even dated anyone in three years, so just the fact that I'm attracted to someone and it's gone further than a far-off crush is kind of thrilling. Plus, Tim Burton and Fred's turned out to be the way to my heart.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Mr. Unavailable #100: The Downtown Hipster
Vital Stats: 35, 5'7"ish. Slight build yet bearded and swarthy. Surfer. Landscape Architect. Income via freelance work and unemployment payments (Full Disclosure: We have the unemployment part in common--minus the freelance work part and payment part.)
First Date: We met via the OKCupid dating site, and, after a few weeks of delay, agreed to meet up at the Soho bar Sweet & Vicious at around 6 p.m. on a Wednesday.
First Impression: He was late to the bar and, when he arrived, he sauntered up, unmistakably coming across as the 2010 version of a hipster. It was the thoughtful combination of fingerless gloves, robber-knit cap and black skinny jeans that gave him away. He had a studied nonchalance in the way he curled over the bar or hunched toward me.
He was nice and kept me at the bar with questions about my friends, family, etc. I told him about some upcoming interviews and congratulated him on finagling a way to collect unemployment and money from freelance work at the same time. I think that's a hipster requirement: knowing how to work the system--or at least looking like you do. I was truly impressed.
I couldn't tell if he was interested, but he seemed disappointed when I suddenly announced I had to go. (Sometimes I'm not graceful about these things. I had some friends to meet later on, but never mentioned it, figuring he'd think it was an out. Although suddenly having to go was probably just as suspect of an exit.)
He was on his second pint when I made my announcement and said he was going to stay for a third. I left the bar and, walking down the street, called Shelagh, telling her I was feeling like it wasn't a match and like he was too much of a heavy drinker for me. She could relate. She was in the thick of a relationship with a heavy drinker. Still, I felt a little sad about it.
Signs of Hope: When the dating site originally matched us up, he contacted me quickly. It took about a month for me to write him back (He'd written at the end of November and, at the end of December, I saw his note and thought, "How'd I miss him?" The short answer: Between November and December, I'd become more open-minded.) After I messaged him, it took a lot of back and forth to set up our first date, but, giving him the benefit of the doubt, let's just say the holidays got in the way.
Red Flags: Call me prejudiced, but the whole hipster thing is a big red flag. If I ever see his apartment and it turns out he has vintage furniture or taxidermy, then I get to say a big, "I told you so."
Turning Point: He must have detected my lack of interest because a few hours after our date, I got an email from him that suggested we could be friends. "Don't be a stranger," he wrote. To tell you the truth, when I got the email, I actually thought it was pretty sweet and do, in fact, want to see him again, which surprises me.
Diagnosis: For him: He may be an emotionally unavailable hipster, but, right now, he's interested.
For me: Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2009, I became just a little more emotionally available myself.
First Date: We met via the OKCupid dating site, and, after a few weeks of delay, agreed to meet up at the Soho bar Sweet & Vicious at around 6 p.m. on a Wednesday.
First Impression: He was late to the bar and, when he arrived, he sauntered up, unmistakably coming across as the 2010 version of a hipster. It was the thoughtful combination of fingerless gloves, robber-knit cap and black skinny jeans that gave him away. He had a studied nonchalance in the way he curled over the bar or hunched toward me.
He was nice and kept me at the bar with questions about my friends, family, etc. I told him about some upcoming interviews and congratulated him on finagling a way to collect unemployment and money from freelance work at the same time. I think that's a hipster requirement: knowing how to work the system--or at least looking like you do. I was truly impressed.
I couldn't tell if he was interested, but he seemed disappointed when I suddenly announced I had to go. (Sometimes I'm not graceful about these things. I had some friends to meet later on, but never mentioned it, figuring he'd think it was an out. Although suddenly having to go was probably just as suspect of an exit.)
He was on his second pint when I made my announcement and said he was going to stay for a third. I left the bar and, walking down the street, called Shelagh, telling her I was feeling like it wasn't a match and like he was too much of a heavy drinker for me. She could relate. She was in the thick of a relationship with a heavy drinker. Still, I felt a little sad about it.
Signs of Hope: When the dating site originally matched us up, he contacted me quickly. It took about a month for me to write him back (He'd written at the end of November and, at the end of December, I saw his note and thought, "How'd I miss him?" The short answer: Between November and December, I'd become more open-minded.) After I messaged him, it took a lot of back and forth to set up our first date, but, giving him the benefit of the doubt, let's just say the holidays got in the way.
Red Flags: Call me prejudiced, but the whole hipster thing is a big red flag. If I ever see his apartment and it turns out he has vintage furniture or taxidermy, then I get to say a big, "I told you so."
Turning Point: He must have detected my lack of interest because a few hours after our date, I got an email from him that suggested we could be friends. "Don't be a stranger," he wrote. To tell you the truth, when I got the email, I actually thought it was pretty sweet and do, in fact, want to see him again, which surprises me.
Diagnosis: For him: He may be an emotionally unavailable hipster, but, right now, he's interested.
For me: Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas of 2009, I became just a little more emotionally available myself.
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