Mr. Unavailable #74: Summer of Love, Part 2

This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback circa summer 1999, Chicago.

Vital Stats: 5'10"ish. 25. Environmental engineer living at home with his parents but saving his money for his Jersey shore share (crafty!). Aesthetic: Tan, trim, and boy did he look good in a crisp white shirt. Demeanor: The original gentleman from Jersey.

Background: On 4th of July weekend, I road-tripped with two of my gay boyfriends (if I haven't already mentioned it, most of my friends in the late '90s were gay men), Matt, a hipster before the term became derogatory, and Nigel-Dave, a ringer for David Bowie, from Chicago to the Jersey Shore. On our first night there, I made it my mission to kiss someone before the night was through. Bar-hopping, we stumbled upon a cover band at a club. I spotted #74 from across the crowded room, maneuvered my way closer to him, caught his attention and one of us--and I don't remember who--struck up a conversation. [Note: Wow, I really did that? Me in 1999=Bold.]

After talking to him for a while on the dance floor, he asked if I wanted to go talk at the bar downstairs, which we did. And then #12 said he knew of a party and invited us, so we went. At the party, #74 and I made out on the deck for a while, completing my mission and causing one girl to comment in disgust ("She was just jealous," Matt said). Saying good-bye to Matt and Nigel-Dave, I went back to his share house, to a share room--where there was someone else actually sharing the room, passed-out drunk I've chosen to believe--and, there, my mission far surpassed all of its original expectations. We talked in the dark for a few hours, during which he confided that none of his relationships seemed to make it past the three-month mark.

The next morning, he drove me back to the house where I was staying. I said good-bye and bounded into Matt's bedroom, waking him up by bouncing up and down on the twin bed I was supposed to have slept in and sing-songing, "I just ha-ad my first one-night sta-and." It really felt like an accomplishment. I was proud, like I deserved some kind of Girl Scout badge--for a Girl Scout gone bad.

I thought that was the end of it, but, when we came home from the beach that day, there was a note in the door from #74 saying he was going to be at a club that night. I and my boyfriends never made it to the club and, again, I thought that was the end of it. But I had told him where I worked and, after I'd gone back to Chicago, he hunted me down via email over my company's web site.

A few weeks later, he flew to Chicago, where we had a fun but debaucherous weekend. A few weeks after that, I flew to his cousin's wedding in Philly, where, staying at his parents' house, which was a tad awkward, where, just to remind you, he was living at the time, we still managed to have a fun but debaucherous weekend. A few weeks after that, I had a business trip to New York and he drove up from Jersey for one fun but debaucherous night.

Signs of Hope: All the hunting-down and keeping-in-touch he was doing. He turned a one-night stand into a long-distance, multi-night stand, which, really, was such a compliment.

Red Flags: He lived hundreds of miles away in New Jersey. And none of his relationships made it past the three-month mark.

Turning Point: At the three-month mark, he disappeared.

Update: He resurfaced and friended me on Facebook a few years ago without including a message. One of his other Facebook friends was "Beer."

Diagnosis: For him: Available, with a three-month expiration date. As far as I can tell, he's still single.
For me: At least I got to cross "First One-Night Stand" off of my accomplishments checklist. That, and, for the record, #74 was my favorite of the Summer of Love guys.

Check out Summer of Love, Part 1 and Part 3.