Mr. Unavailable #99: Snowbank Guy

This is a Mr. Unavailable Mini Flashback, circa December 2009.

Vital Stats: 34ish, 6'1"ish, svelte, and of Irish heritage (hot, black Irish, that is). Employment via own real estate research business. Aesthetic: Standard, Acceptable New York City Attire (black button-down shirts and jeans). Demeanor: Nice-Guy Guy

First Impression: I'd seen him around for about a year and always thought he had an adorable earnestness about him. We officially met at Holiday Party in the West Village in December 2009. He was known to most as a "Nice Guy." Very cute, possibly too cute to be fully available.

Signs of Hope: In a moment of bravery at a Christmas party, I turned to where he was sitting behind me and started a conversation. He was an eager participant. We had an extended conversation, flirted about getting married, traded phone numbers and, when we coincidentally left party at the same time, he offered to escort me home. He told me he'd seen me around and thought I was cute, etc. It was blizzarding out, so he let me borrow his gloves. As we walked down Bleecker Street through fat, puffy snowflakes and past pristine 4-foot snowbanks, he joked about diving into one (#99: "Wouldn't it be fun to just dive into a snowbank?")...a minute later, he grabbed me and dove into the closest snowbank--with me on top (I'm assuming so that I wouldn't get squished, which I thought was sweet). My only option seemed to kiss him, so we made out right there on Bleecker Street, with passing NYU drunks and comedy-club goers mere feet away.

Red Flags: It was all happening WAY too fast. While we were at the party, he demonstrated oddly explosive anger when irked by someone he did not like (it was hot to see him bolt from his seat to enact a confrontation, but, alas, it was a total red flag). When we reached my apartment building, he tried really, really hard to come upstairs to my apartment (kissed me, pressed himself against me in persuasion, begged, pleaded). #99: "Doesn't a small part of you want me to come up?" Me: "A big part of me wants you to come up." I said it wasn't going to happen and then added, "We should do this again sometime." We'd exchanged phone numbers earlier in the night, so he was like, "I've got your number, you've got my number..."

Turning Point: Those dots at the end of him saying we had each others' phone numbers. He never actually said he was going to use it. The overall turning point was probably when I finally impressed upon him that he couldn't come upstairs. He acted rejected. I got a text from him half an hour later saying something like: "The kids' all awake." At first, it made no sense but I think in context I could figure out what it meant (Translation: "I'm all ready to go if you still want to hook up.") I responded saying I didn't understand his joke. I never heard from him again and when I'd see him around, he'd actively avoid me.

Diagnosis: For him: Totally unavailable for anything remotely resembling dating, let alone a relationship with me.
For me: I'd broken my nearly three-year kissing dry spell, so at first I was psyched. Then, as the days passed and I realized he wasn't going to call, I felt a bit, well, bad.

Second Opinion: For him: It turned out, #99 had a girlfriend--before, during and after our encounter. Apparently, it was a relationship he liked to keep quiet so that he could get some action on the side.
For me: If we had ended up dating, it would have been a great how-we-got-together story, but, as usual, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Otherwise, I'll say it again, it ended a nearly three-year make-out drought.