Solution

Last night, after some delay, I had a second date with Sunday-night Man.

He was again a good date.  He had the patience to hang in a loud room with a girl who had no speaking voice.  (Yes. Lost on Sunday night. Still gone.)  He requested the bartender make me a lemon and brandy hot toddy to soothe my throat, then insisted I have a refill.  He recommended dinner choices, then paid for them.  He kissed me standing outside my car.  He kissed me more sitting inside my car. He was a good kisser.

This all helped me forget for a few hours that, despite multiple exhortations to the contrary, C-2 and I never did see each other this weekend.  After 2 days of radio silence, he wrote yesterday to say he had been swamped, was sick, and was sorry.  Today, ostensibly, he leaves town for a long time.

This is good, I think.  Maybe I'll get on with my life after 9 months of unreliable dithering and frustration.  Like how, sometimes, I need to bury the Reeses Pieces at the bottom of the trash to keep from eating the entire bag.  Out of reach means out of mind.

(One would hope.)