Mr. Unavailable #119: Coffee Date, No Sparks

Vital Stats: 40, 5'11". He was tall and had sort of wiry reddish hair. The shape of his head kind of reminded me of Ron Perlman, the actor from Hellboy and various other films--you know, sort of beastly looking. Aesthetic: He dressed kind of blandly, in a sweater and jeans. Demeanor: Mildly effeminate and somewhat shy but a good one-on-one conversationalist.

First Date: We met via the dating site Chemistry.com--we were "matched." In my three months on the site, this was my only date to come of it. We arranged to meet for coffee at Cafe Mocha in the East Village

First Impression: He walked into the cafe with almost hesitant steps and reached out to shake my hand and give me a cheek kiss, making a sad little kissy sound near my ear. With the hand shake and just the general way he moved, he seemed a little limp-limbed. Liking guys who move in more of a take-charge way, I wasn't attracted.

It also seemed as if he wasn't so attracted to me. When he walked up to me and I stood up, he sort of looked off into the distance over my right shoulder as if he had to collect his thoughts so as not to reveal his disappointment.

Signs of Hope: We were both adults, so even though it was clear neither of us were interested, we settled into our hour coffee date. He asked what happened with the job-I-didn't-want and I told him. I asked him what was going on with the literary journal he started and he said, "Oh, I brought you something." I got excited that he'd brought me a copy of the journal, but then he pulled out some bookmarks. "Oh, thanks," I said and tried to seem excited about the bookmarks. The rest of the date carried on like that, cordial but with no sparks.

Red Flags: When talking about what he was doing and what he wanted to do, he didn't really seem to want to get my--or his own--hopes up. He had been a literary magazine editor, which seemed impressive, but then he explained he didn't do it anymore and was more of a figurehead. He earned money via some kind of computer work at law firms, which seemed impressive, but then he explained that he wasn't a computer guy. He was also a playwright and even had one produced over the summer, which seemed impressive, but then he explained it was just the one and it was more of a workshop thing. In the interest of fairness, sitting there in my own unemployed state, I was no prize either.

Turning Point: None to speak of. There were no sparks from the start. At the end, he paid for our coffees, saying the employed should pay for the unemployed, which was nice, and then we parted ways in front of the cafe, with me pointing him toward the 6 train.

Diagnosis: Simple: Neither of us was interested in the other. Next.