Mr. Unavailable #64: How Soon is Never?

This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback circa summer of 1990, just after high-school graduation, the suburbs of Buffalo.

Vital Stats: 5’8”ish, 18. Aesthetic: Whatever band T-shirts 18-year-old suburban boys were wearing in 1990. Demeanor: Nice, not at all offensive, innocuous; ten years later I would have called that “having no edge.”

What Happened: At a post-graduation party, we were both crouched in front of the stereo. A Smiths tape was playing and, as soon as “How Soon is Now” came on, we looked at each other and needed no words to agree that it was the best song, like, ever. He was also a huge Peter Gabriel fan and he tried to impress upon me the very awesomeness of "Red Rain." I didn't say it then, but it was no "In Your Eyes." We became friendly and I arranged a whole trip to Toronto, including a stop by scenic Niagara Falls on the way home, with him and a few other mutual friends. Afraid my interest would be too obvious, I pretty much ignored him the whole time, causing my friend Vivian to say as we got back in the car after peering over the falls (Canadian side, of course), “Are you OK? You’re acting really weird.”

Despite my weirdness, we, at some point, exchanged college addresses. I sent him a brownie in the mail. I’m sure it had to have been some sort of inside joke, but I can’t recall what that joke could have been and I don’t think he remembered either because I never heard back about it. I saw him at our ten-year high school reunion. He was adorned with a standard-issue girlfriend and severely thinning hair, the latter of which he tried to disguise with a strategic pouf. Now that I think about it, his girlfriend was similarly pouffed.

Signs of Hope: Our Smiths bond.

Red Flags: My weirdness; his general lack of enthusiasm—it was more than the brownie silence.

Turning Point: When we went off to college. Even if I had been able to salvage things after I misplayed Toronto, there wasn’t enough there to keep anything going from a distance.

Diagnosis: For him: He was too disinterested to be available.
For me: I was so busy figuring out how to manage my own interest that I didn’t have the mental space to figure out how to be available.