Mr. Unavailable #111: The Recovery

See Could it Be? and It's Not Him, It's Me for the background on this one.

Third Date: Exit Through the Gift Shop at the Sunshine on Houston St. followed by cake at Cafe Dante on MacDougal St. in the Village.

In the days leading up to the date, I was wrestling with my inner cynic and hoping--praying--that I would be somehow attracted to #111 again. Although the date was set for Thursday, he messaged me Wednesday saying he snagged tickets to Winter's Tale at Shakespeare in the Park and did I want to go? I really, really did, but had plans to do the JPMorgan Corporate Challenge with work, so had to turn him down. He messaged me on Thursday giving me four options for our date and, having noticed I liked cake, he had all of the options end with cake. Dreamy, no?

Naturally, I was terrified I would feel no attractive pull yet again. As I approached the theater, so as to remove some of the pressure I was putting on myself and the situation, I repeated over and over: "It's just a friendly date. Just have fun. No big deal."

I spotted him in line for tickets. My first thought? He looked cute. Relief! Success! Phew! All through the movie, I wanted to touch him. Everything he said, I thought, "He's talking to me!" Yes, I was very schoolgirlish about it all. There really is something sexy about sitting in the dark with someone you like.

I regained some of my composure as we headed west in search of cake. He asked me what my favorite candy was and I mentioned white rabbits--a vanilla Tootsie Roll-like candy only found in Chinatown. He likes lemonheads. Weird, but cute. We got an outside table at Cafe Dante and examined the menu, whittling down our picks to the Grandmother Cake and a chocolate bombe-like ice cream treat. After he had bought us popcorn at the movie, I said I'd get the cake later (to which he rather quickly said OK but whatever) but then at the cafe I noticed the menu said they only took cash and I had $6 on me. "You're going to kill me," I said. He was grudgingly game to pay--but he was game.

And then, the perfect moment of payback occurred.
First, some minor background. Four days before, I was on the beach in Montauk, the location of my summer share. My roommate for the weekend was a lovely woman who shall remain nameless. We got to talking and she began telling me about the latest man to toy with, crush and then mutilate her poor little heart. Among the grievances: he made it plain to her that he had complete control over her and that he knew he could treat her like shit because she would come running back every time. On the last occasion, she started complaining about her treatment and he said that either she could stay and have sex with him or she could go, and then he opened the door."
"He threw you out?" I said.
"Well, he tried to. I stayed," she said.
I asked her if I could ask who it was. She told me.
It was none other than Mr. Unavailable #109.

Back to Cafe Dante... Halfway through our chocolate bombe, I looked up and saw #109 coming our way. "#109!" I cried. He approached the table and I instantly forgot #111's name. In my lack, they managed to introduce themselves. #111, in all his manly, healthy glow, reached out his hand and introduced himself. It was beautiful. I was ecstatic. Nothing says "I'm not interested in you" more than "I'm out on a date with another guy." Of all the people who could have walked by. It could not have been more perfect. We can also file that one under New York City is Not as Small as You Think.

Analysis of my subconscious: My subconscious has this dirty little talent of detecting when someone is emotionally available and contains a sabotage setting that causes me to scrutinize and analyze everything. I came up with all kinds of stuff about #111--there's something weird about his chin, he's definitely thinning on the top, he's not 5'10", as his profile says, he has weird mannerisms. Meanwhile, with #100 and #109, who are nowhere near as attractive or funny or charismatic or charming or kind, I found few faults.

Signs of Hope: I AM attracted to him, despite myself. We laugh a lot. And I really like listening to his stories--his odd asides aside. He does funny impressions of people, too, like his mother and the owner of a gym he once worked at. He also used to be the guy at the gym who fired people, which I thought was quite hot.

How the Date Ended: He asked if I minded if he didn't walk me home, which, naturally, I did and took to mean he was no longer interested, none of which I told him. We walked to the corner of MacDougal and West 4th and, as we said good-bye, he dropped his bag and we made out for a minute. I love PDA. I see my opportunities with PDA as revenge on all the PDA that I had to endure when no one was kissing me and I had zero kissing prospects. And in the middle of the village on a Thursday night is a prime place to do it. Oh, and it was some good kissing.

And then: He texted me the next day saying he was in Chinatown and what was the name of that candy I liked?

Diagnosis: Things are looking good. I just need to keep my subconscious under wraps and some money in my wallet.