Mr. Unavailable #93: Unavailable, or Just Plain Crazy

This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback circa late 2007.

Vital Stats: 40-something artist (possibly nearing 50-something). 5'9"ish. Aesthetic: In a button-down and trousers, he looked way more normal than he turned out to be. Demeanor: He had decent first-date manners, but his intensity drowned everything out.

First (and Only) Date: October 2007. Met via eHarmony dating site. Made plans to meet for coffee at Cafe Angelique on Bleecker Street.

First Impression: Older and not quite as good looking as his artsy, far-away, black-and-white photos had me fantasizing. In person, he was also intense--very intense--and used big words to, I assumed, try to convey to his listener that he was the proud owner of a big brain.

After buying me coffee, he immediately launched into monologue about his life. He was Cuban-American, he grew up in Miami, he learned to play the drums, said he toured with The Miami Sound Machine and was good friends with Gloria Estefan but gave it up and went to business school--there was something in there about his father wanting him to do business school, or something--and then he threw all that away and started painting. He, apparently, became obsessed with painting, although I suspected he became obsessed with lots of things.

There was a tangent somewhere in our conversation about relationships and how generally one person in a relationship is often a narcissist and how it was all about them projecting themselves onto the other person. He'd asked me exactly one question about myself and clearly didn't care about the answer, so I figured he was probably right.

Really, though, he wanted to talk about his art. In the midst of talking about his thesis, he said, "Would you like to see it" and then reached into his bag. I said, "Sure" and, sure enough, he pulled out his art thesis and handed it to me to let me flip through it. Apparently, he'd done a study of Francis Bacon, analyzing his paintings to develop a mathematical formula--an equation, if you will. He then applied the equation to his own artwork. "Here, let me show you," he said, pulling out two more books--bound compilations of his own artwork.

The cafe table was small and quickly grew crowded with the books he'd brought to show me--on what was supposed to be a meet-and-greet type of coffee date. He opened one of the books and showed me one painting, "This one I painted with my hands, pressing the canvas so hard that my fingers bled." I'm no art critic, but, if I were, I'd probably describe his paintings as violent, psychotic even, with undertones of extreme rage and great mental dislocation. He'd also, of course, met Francis Bacon at an art thing once. I wondered if Francis Bacon was glad he was in public when he met #93, too.

Signs of Hope: At the beginning of the date, he went up to the counter and bought me a coffee, bringing me an assortment of sugars.

Red Flags: Everything after he bought me coffee.

Turning Point: If it wasn't the thesis and the art books, it was the moment he told me he'd applied his equation to DaVinci's "The Last Supper" and then said, "I know what the real DaVinci code is." This was right around the time The DaVinci Code book and movie had come out, so it was topical. "It has nothing to do with Mary Magdalen," he said. He had a glint in his eye indicating he thought what he knew would be controversial. Or maybe he just hadn't taken his medication that morning. Not one to pass up a golden crazy-person opportunity, I asked what he thought the real DaVinci code was.

"Do you have two hours? Maybe we could get dinner," he said. It was actually the second time he'd suggested getting dinner.

In the interest of self-preservation, I did not have two hours to get dinner.

"Actually, I have to be going," I said, getting up to put on my coat. Outside, I shook his hand, thanked him for the coffee and said, "It was really nice to meet you. If I ever see your name on the outside of a gallery, I can say, 'I met that guy once.'"

Diagnosis: For him: Potentially schizophrenic. He was probably available for an intense, tumultuous, narcissistic relationship, just not with me.
For me: I would like to thank eHarmony for deciding I was match with this guy and for, therefore, giving me the best bad date ever. On a sidenote, I did not renew my membership.