Mr. Unavailable #113: The Phoenix Rises, in the Phoenix-Scottsdale Area

Vital Stats: 5' 8"ish, 38. Neurologist, professional pianist/composer. College friend of the friend I was staying with in Arizona. Demeanor: Humble, talkative, slightly-ADD genius. Aesthetic: Neurologist in October-appropriate Phoenix-Scottsdale casual wear: khakis and button-down shirt.

First Impression: Not as hot as his Facebook photo, which was my only prior reference point, but that photo left a lot to live up to. Still: cute and clearly a genius.

First Meeting: Julie had been trying to hook us up long distance for almost two years via Facebook but it never took. Finally, on my last night in Arizona, we were all set to meet up for dinner but then he got stuck at the hospital with a patient, which was unfortunate yet somehow attractive. It was looking like a rendez-vous wouldn't happen until at the last minute, we triangulated our locations and figured out a way to meet for drinks.

Signs of Hope: We met up at a bar in a fancy, mall-like area and he immediately seemed approachable and kind. I hate to describe him in comparison to #111, but a few more things became clear to me. Unlike the way #111 would overcompensate, puffing himself up about "being a writer" or being "passionate about the arts," here was someone who was passionate about everything he did and he had no need to prove it or to have me prove what I was passionate about in return. He just was. And he wanted to share that with whoever he was around. He was clearly very intelligent, but it was evident without him having to say one word about "being a neurologist" or "being an accomplished pianist." It was a relief to see.

At the bar, we were on our second drinks when Julie excused herself for the bathroom and he asked me if I was dating anyone. We had told him that one of the reasons I'd extended my trip was because I got laid off, but now I told him the other reason for extending my trip: because I was no longer dating someone. "Oh, he probably misses you by now," he said. He said it just like that, matter-of-fact. The way he said it even made me believe it. And then went on to talk about what it was like to date in Arizona and how he found dating in New York to be difficult when he lived there. The women, he said, were high maintenance. He described one episode with the woman he ended up dating for 3.5 years: he called her purse "a handbag" and she burst into tears and said it was a very important designer bag. She also told him that if he needed help paying for an engagement ring, her father could help him. No wonder women in New York have a bad rep.

After we left, Julie told me the things he'd said when I took my trip to the ladies room. Apparently, I'm darkly funny, intelligent and well read. He said he was flying to L.A. for a Laurie Anderson show the next day but told Julie, "If she were staying in town, I would have invited her to the show because I have an extra ticket." And then, later apparently, he called me something along the lines of "quietly wise."

"In one hour, he got you," Julie said.
I started to say #111 never got me then stopped myself. "[#111] got me, he just couldn't handle it," I said.

"Well, this guy got it," she said. "He's smitten."

Smitten is good.

Red Flags: He lives in Arizona. I live in New York.

Diagnosis: As I said to Julie on the car ride home that night, "This was exactly what I needed." We'll see what happens. I'm remaining open-minded. But he does live thousands of miles away. At worst, I've got a new friend. At best, his family lives in New Jersey and he mentioned getting together when he comes out for Thanksgiving.

Update: He messaged me on Facebook and we've been sending occasional messages, so we'll see if anything comes up about Thanksgiving. Otherwise, I went to a show at Le Poisson Rouge that he recommended, bringing along #114...