Mr. Unavailable #84: Superman

This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback circa 2004.

Vital Stats: Seriously, he looked like Superman. His online photos were very likely some kind of headshots. He was 6'2", maybe 200 pounds, with jet black hair and perfect skin. Aesthetic: Head-to-toe gothabilly. Demeanor: Too cool for school.

First Date: Late August 2004 at a cafe in the East Village.

First Impression: He was more beefcakey in real life than in his photos, which must have been old and from his thinner modeling days. Dressed entirely in gothabilly attire, he came complete with jet-black cowboy hat, black shirt, black leather jacket, black jeans (or were those leather pants?), giant skeleton ring on his left hand and a few others on his right. Earrings and metal neckware may have been involved as well.

Signs of Hope: He seemed slightly less self-absorbed than his fetching black-and-white online photos had me believing he would be. He bought me a conditional coffee on our first date--conditional in that he told me I could get the next one. He called immediately after the first date to set up a second one--seriously, like ten minutes later.

Red Flags: The conditional coffee. On the first date, we talked a lot about his various pursuits, which I suspect existed primarily in his mind. He was "writing a graphic novel," "developing a TV show for Comedy Central," "working for a gothabilly label." (The last was true, though part time). As he walked me home, he made references to attracting stalkers--also possibly more imagined than real.

Before the second date, he called on his way over and insisted on coming up to my apartment to get me--and then he put the moves on me. It was the Worst. Kiss. Ever. Much like having a dead, cold, wet fish flop around in your mouth. As he maneuvered me in the direction of the bed, I said, "OK, let's go" and bolted toward the door.

Turning Point: On the second date (carrot cake at Cloister Cafe, which I sprung for as the condition from our first date), I was fairly bored but tried not to think too much about it. I had told him I was going to Fire Island for the weekend, so when I didn't hear from him after I returned, I called him him to tell him I was back. He answered but then had to go suddenly, mumbling about needing to eat or having to call his mother, or something similarly orally fixated or oedipal.

For the longest time, I wondered why he even bothered answering the phone when I called that night because I never heard from him again.

Diagnosis: For him: I can be super-clueless when it comes to figuring out what's really going on in any dating situation. I later realized that he had probably read each sign of interest from me as a step toward free sex and his resulting steps in my direction were merely a manifestation of how hopeful he was. When he saw a freebie was not going to be easy enough to come by, he quit.
For me: I was psyched to be dating someone so attractive and was therefore willing to overlook the fact that we were completely incompatible.

Update: Six years later (just a few short weeks ago!), I spotted him on a different dating site and he had this to say for himself: "I'm tired of dating, I want a girlfriend."

My recommendations: Develop more of a personality and stop trying to immediately bed your dates. And the kissing, work on the kissing.

(I couldn't resist, so I also Googled him and found nothing--nothing about him, Comedy Central or any kind of graphic novel.)