Mr. Unavailable #78: The Bartender

This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback circa 2001.

Vital Stats: 32, 5'7" and stocky. British with a Green Card, Artist-Slash-Bartender. Aesthetic: I remember a lot of camouflage. Demeanor: Dry, scathing wit when sober; loud--but happy--when drunk.

First Impression: "Hey, who's the cute bartender?" I met him at the local dive in Brooklyn, where I was a regular.

First Date: I don't exactly remember. I know that in the late Spring of 2001, I was unemployed, he had his days off and we were friends, so, since he was a Brit with an affection for guns and knives and I had time on my hands, we went shooting up in Long Island with a couple of his shotguns and rifles. That night, we decided we didn't want to make the drive all the way back to Brooklyn, so we ended up platonically shacking up at a motel. Somewhere between then and June/July, we started hanging out as more than friends. And it was more "hanging out" than dating, although he did insist on paying for everything...

Ah, I suddenly remember when we got together. (The haze cleared...) Because I was unemployed, I'd hide out at my parents on Cape Cod on occasion. One weekend, he and two other friends came up to visit. One night we got drunk and hooked up. That was the romantic beginning.

Signs of Hope: He introduced me to my then-favorite drink: The Drunken Presbyterian. Aside from that, after we got together, I went traveling in Europe with my brother for the month of July and he said he'd miss me and emailed me all the time. When I returned, he told me he loved me. He confided in me, admitting to his heavy drinking habits and confessing how he frequently got drunk, blacked out and took off his clothes in the middle of the street (the frequent drunkenness was no surprise but the frequent defrocking was). He also confessed some mysterious story about how he'd acquired his green card--it was either that or go to jail in the U.K. He been involved in some kind of art forgery ring but happened to know someone high up who could get him the green card, so he hightailed it out of England.

Red Flags: The heavy drinking , the fact that we met at a bar where he worked and where we were both regulars, and the fact that he was kind of a criminal. His affection for guns and knives (he'd carry a knife with him to the ATM). Getting together via the hook-up. And--this is somewhat related so bear with me--he had the hairiest shoulders I've ever seen in my life--like an ape. It's related because he offered to shave them but never did.

Turning Point: 9/11 happened. He got distant. It must have shaken him out of his stupor. A few days later, we went to see Zoolander and, afterward, it became clear it was about to end. A classic breakup moment:
"But you even said you loved me," I said.
"Yeah, well, maybe I jumped the gun on that," he said.
After that, he said something else and I remember saying in reply, "I can't save you."
"I know, I think I thought you could," he said.

Diagnosis: For him: I heard he got married, but I doubt he ever got saved--I truly doubt he ever figured out that he had to save himself.
For me: I was upset at first but went away from the extended one-night stand (which is ultimately what it was) with a strange fondness for Zoolander. It's part of my DVD collection. I must have been subconsciously relieved even then.