Vital Stats: Maybe late 20s, 5' 11"ish. Half Indian, Half White. With the smooth, round complexion of a 20-something, yet tall like a man, he was super cute.
First Impression: He kept looking my way at the outdoor dance extravaganza last weekend. I made eye contact, smiled, he approached, started talking and eventually asked for my number. He looked so young. I kept thinking, "Does he realize how old I am?" But he was cute. And nice. He was even nice to the friend I was with.
First Date: Galway Hooker (gigantic "Irish pub"), East 36th Street.
Signs of Hope: At the dance thing, he seemed quite keen. Afterward, he was fast to act: he texted me the next day and set up a date for mid-week.
Red Flags: The youth factor. He'd also been drinking with friends before the dance thing and although he didn't seem at all drunk, it could have been impairing his senses.
Turning Point: The moment I walked into the bar I could tell that I wasn't how he remembered me to be. There was noticeable disappointment. Body language was terrible--he was turned toward the bar the whole time. When the bartender asked me if I wanted another, I asked him if he was going to get one, giving him an out. He didn't take it. An unnecessary two-hour date.
Diagnosis: Fickle? Drunk then, sober now? I have no idea. All I know is I went away with a bruised ego and a feeling of being completely baffled. I knew when I met him that it probably wouldn't work out, but the way the not working out went down was a downer.
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