This is a Mr. Unavailable flashback, circa November 2000.
Vital Stats: 30-something, 5'5"ish. Made a living working for his famous filmmaker brother. Aesthetic: He was small, so, lots of baggy layers. Demeanor: Nice guy, kind of unobtrusive but smart and a regular at my local bar.
First Impression: He had the whole famous-filmmaker-brother thing going for him, so everyone knew who he was and he was widely accepted and generally liked. He'd flirt with me when I'd see him but I never took him seriously until...
Turning Point: ...election night 2000. It was a bad night. Things weren't looking good for Gore and it looked like the ballot-counting was going to last long into the wee hours. Not to mention I was post-dot-com unemployed and didn't have to be anywhere the next day, so me and my friends hunkered down. I was on perhaps my fourth drunken Presbyterian--and filling the role beautifully--when #76 slid into the booth across from me. A few flirtatious words and several drinks later, taking him home with me seemed like a good idea.
He didn't stay long but he did leave his hat behind. The next time I ran into him at the bar, we arranged a surreptitious hand-off outside and re-entered the bar separately. He then obliterated all attempts at the aforementioned surreptitiousness by buying me a drink from his end of the bar and having the bartender (who was, to add to the horror, #78) say, "[#76] thanks you for finding his hat."
Diagnosis: I have no idea what his deal was--if I had to guess, free sex--but, for me, drunkenness, unemployment, pseudo-celebrity and a Republican leading in the polls was a lethal combination against which, at least in 2000, I never stood a fighting chance.
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