Mr. Unavailable #111: We're Just Not That Into Each Other

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

Fourth Date: Feeling freshly inspired by a good third date, I texted #111 on Saturday a.m., two days after date #3: "Picnic in the park tomorrow?" We met in front of the now-dilapidated Tavern on the Green. If that first scene in front of the abandoned Tavern was in a fiction story, it would have qualified as foreshadowing.

Fourth Impression: Yet again, as soon I saw him, I wasn't at all attracted to him. It was like date #2 all over again.

Signs of Hope: He had sent me a cute text a day after date #3 to ask about a candy I mentioned liking, so I thought things were still a go on his side. And then, for a while on date #4, he seemed like he might still be thinking of this as an ongoing dating thing. He asked me bold, date-y questions ("When did you lose your virginity?" "What was the meanest thing you've ever done?" etc.) and kept saying things like, "If you ever meet so-and-so, you'd really like him" and "I'm surprised I responded to your profile" (the latent meaning: "You're not how your profile portrays you, but that's a good thing.") I'd also won tickets to Shakespeare in the Park for that night and, even though he'd already seen A Winter's Tale, he was game to go again.

Red Flags: He had asked on date #3 if I was around on the weekend and I said I was, but, other than the text (above), Friday night came and went and there was no sign from him. Also, it took him several hours to respond to the Saturday a.m. text and, even then, his responses were short, missing their usual playful verbiage. But the biggest red flag: On date #4, he never tried to make a move. Nothing. And I mean nothing. PLUS: He never, ever called me.

Turning Point: I knew it was pretty much finished when we parted ways at the 79th street station--after eight whole hours of virtually no physical contact--with a mere peck on the lips. I might have been able to conjure some sort of interest if he'd made a move, but since there was nothing, I had nothing to go on. I rode the subway home feeling sad but hoping the next communication from him would indicate he was feeling "friendly" toward me, too--I knew another Mr. Available was about to bite the dust and I didn't want it to be my doing.

Diagnosis: Sure, my ego's a little bruised (i.e., "Why doesn't he like me?"), but, thankfully, whatever I'm not feeling, he's not feeling either, so I don't have to try to like him anymore. Honestly, it was exhausting worrying about it. Plus, now I also don't have to try to like the things about him that bothered me--the devil's advocacy, contrarian nature, odd mannerisms and intense, stoic demeanor. Plus, he liked to talk about "being a writer" a lot. And he was maybe 5'8" not 5'10" like his profile said. It was a minor thing but still kind of irritating as I had to dig out shoes with lower and lower heels--superficial, yes, but I like being able to look up at my dates.

Update: Indeed, I received an email from him a day after the date that had no subject and merely thanked me for the picnic and said it was sweet of me. It included no response-seeking questions or plans for the future. Ah, nothing kills potential for fiery romance like frank gratitude. I'll email him back something similarly non-committal and, maybe after a few days, I'll send him another message saying something like, "It looks like we're thinking the same thing. Friends?" I'll see how that goes. We did have fun and it would be a shame to lose touch. But, as another Mr. Available once told me: You can't have a fire without a spark.

Stay tuned: On the Saturday night before the date, I went dancing on Pier 68 and made eyes at what must be a 24-year-old, who then came over, chatted me up, got my number and texted me the next day (I checked my phone and texted him back from the bathroom of the Delacourt Theater after it became clear that #111 wasn't going to jump me on the picnic blanket). We're going out in a few days...