Mr. Unavailable #111: The Continuation

See Could it Be?, It's Not Him, It's Me, The Recovery and We're Just Not That Into Each Other for the background on this one.

Background: I met Mr. Available #111 in early June, liked him on our first date, didn't like him on our second date, liked him on our third date, didn't like him on our fourth date and was about to call it quits. Then I went out with him again and....

Date #5: ...you guessed it. I liked him again. I met him at Snack on Thompson between Prince and Spring on a swelteringly humid Sunday evening. And, just like dates #1 and 3, I was attracted to him the moment I saw him. He was sitting on a bench in the front of the restaurant reading and I walked up to him and said, "You're looking academic." He said, "Well, if I can't be it I can only try and look like it." I sat down next to him and I could tell he was having trouble looking at me. It. Was. Awesome.

Let me explain: You see, I'd called my friend Shelagh earlier in the day and told her I was having trouble deciding what to wear--whether I wanted to be saucy or sweet. "What do you feel like?" she asked. Unfortunately, I was feeling sweet, but then she said, "No, actually, what do you want to be?" "Saucy," was my immediate answer. I'd been pretty sweet-looking on all our previous dates, so if this was about to end, I wanted to go out with a bang. Hence, I donned a slinky black halter dress that emphasized my decolletage.

He managed to collect himself and we stood up and went into the restaurant. As we sat down, he said, "By the way, you look very pretty tonight."

I have to admit that this whole thing is progressing despite myself. We're already developing patterns. Of ordering: we get a bunch of appetizers, one entree and share it all. Of saying good-bye: making out in the Village. Of getting dessert: almost always.

After dinner, we walked to West Soho for an experimental jazz show he'd gotten tickets to. We walked up the stairs to the gallery and, as we reached a landing, I turned to say something and he kissed me. All kinds of cliches come to mind--things about weak in the knees, speechlessness, etc. It was all true. After, I stared at him for a moment with a little smile and continued with what I was saying...sort of.

We went in and sat down inside and he admitted that when he has a drink (he had wine at dinner), he gets affectionate. Finally! I'd been waiting for the scorpio to come out--and actually told him that (I think I mentioned that on our previous eight-hour date I failed to get anything beyond a kiss on the cheek.) So I said, "Where's the bar?"

Then, he put his arm around me/my chair. It was that initial, awkward first-time-arm-around-you thing where all you're doing is thinking about the fact that he has his arm around you and wondering if he's thinking about the fact that he has his arm around you, too. And then he removes his arm, and you wonder why. And he puts his arm back, and you are thrilled. And then he rubs your arm and you think it feels a little awkward and wonder if he thinks it feels a little awkward. Thank god I have almost no interest in experimental jazz.

After the show, we went to a bar in the Village where I hoped to get him more liquored up. I was in the middle of telling him a story about how I ran away to Boston one summer and spent the entirety reading Anna Karenina when suddenly he said, "I'd like to see you more. I don't know what you're deal is or if you like this once a week thing, but I would like to see you more than once a week." First, I momentarily stopped breathing. And then I remembered one week where we did, in fact, see each other twice but decided not to mentioned it. Instead what came out of my mouth was, "Yes, I'd like that"--or some other similar response. We parted ways around 11:30 and I went home a little baffled at myself...

Next: If this vicious on-and-off cycle holds true, our next date will be another where I am not attracted to him. This is excruciating. Maybe I can make it a quick coffee. Or a movie. I did notice that on the dates where I liked him, he always got there first, so perhaps I should be strategically late. I don't know what the magic formula is. Obviously, I like him or I wouldn't keep going out with him. Or maybe it's good that I am not gaga over him on every date because, as my old shrink would say, "that gives you room to get to know him and find out if you like him." She was always right.