Mr. Unavailable #142: Un Uomo Piccolo

Vital Stats: 46, 5’10”, a business owner living in Hoboken. Aesthetic: Nicely outfitted in clean button downs and cargo shorts. Demeanor: Easygoing, friendly guy who appeared to have his shit together.

#142 was looking promising. He was an OKCupid guy and we were a 95% match. He was cute in his photos — clearly fit, with a full head of hair and striking Italian features. There was even a photo of him with his family in Italy. In it, they were dining at a place overlooking a dramatic cliff to the sea. He had a quintessentially Italian name, too, which was rife with nickname opportunities. And the last line of his profile said this “Message me if: You've seen something here you like and think maybe you'd like to know more. If you're looking for something serious. If you're looking for someone to share your life with.”

Someone serious. At last.

We’d had one round of get-to-know-you emails in which he used complete sentences and both a greeting and salutation when, one Tuesday after work I was uptown at a Starbucks waiting to meet Kevin before I, him, Eva and Eva’s ex-con quasi-boyfriend went to a Silversun Pickups show at The Late Show with David Letterman. I checked my phone and there was an email from him.

#142: Can I ask you something out of the blue? Just how spontaneous are you? Want to go see Spiegelworld with me tonight at 7:30? I've got an extra ticket and it might be a fun way to meet up and it is a pretty cool show even if it is super short notice.

Here’s the thing, I love Spiegelworld. (Kevin and I went a few years ago.) Usually, I find last-second planning irritating but this wasn’t that. This was pure, justifiable spontaneity.

Me: Damn! I totally would have gone with you to Spiegelworld. I saw that show a few years ago and loved it. I'm actually going to see a band play (the Silversun Pickups) on Letterman tonight. A friend put me on the list. Bummer! Ah well, next time.

Typical. I don’t have any cool plans for weeks and then two awesome things happen on the same night. (And of course I had to tell him I was on the list.)

We agreed to get together on Saturday instead. If his first date offer was Spiegelworld, I was excited to hear how creative his next date idea was. We talked on the phone on Friday and made a plan for Saturday. A coffee date in my hood. Hum ho.

Although the date lacked the hoped-for ingenuity, I was still excited about meeting him. On Saturday, I picked Van Leeuwen, an ice cream place on 7^th Street with good coffee. Maybe he’d spring for ice cream, too. With a trip to Italy to meet his family in mind, I dressed up in a saucy dress and heels. He texted me when he got to the place and I told him I was on my way.

A few minutes later, I turned right onto 7^th Street. And then I turned right into the store. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a small man sitting at the counter by the door. I needed a moment. I pretended not to see him. He was small. Not midget small, but overall small. Narrow might be a better word. Or small-boned. Or even diminutive. Lilliputian, maybe. 

He caught my eye and stood. We hugged hello, weakly. I was taller than him in my heels, but it wasn’t his lack of height as it much as it was lack of... body. I sat on the stool beside him. 

We had a pleasant enough time. He sprung for coffee and ice cream. He told me about his business—running adult sports teams in New Jersey—and about how he competed in various mud obstacle races, which, seriously, sounded like a lot of fun.

And then, as our coffees were drunk and the last bit of ice cream was a puddle in its cup, our time together neared it’s end and he said, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but this is kind of a conundrum for me. You look just like an ex-girlfriend of mine…. We’re still friends and everything. In fact, I ran into her a few weeks ago and we caught up and it was great. But I’m kind of taken aback by the resemblance.”

OK, A: I felt really self-conscious and extremely put on the spot.

And, B: What exactly was the “right” way to take that? I mean, he saw my photos and, clearly, he has a type, so he couldn’t really be that surprised.

The conversation took a nosedive. Somehow, we eventually changed the subject and left things intentionally up in the air with a hug on the corner and no solid plans to meet up again.

Signs of Hope: Before we met, he was perfect for me.

Red Flags: Does anyone else think it’s weird that he told me I looked just like an ex-girlfriend and he was in a “conundrum”?

Turning Point: As soon as I saw him: None of his ex-girlfriend issues matter because I’m not interested.

Diagnosis: For him: I'm too reminiscent for him.

For me: He's too mini for me.