Would You Be My Missed Connection?

I read the "missed connections" page on craigslist.org. 

There, I said it.  I hate it, but I love it.

Judge as you might, there is just something about the idea that under the still surface of mundane daily life there hums an electrical current of secret attraction that intrigues me.  It accentuates the possibility that, at any given moment, we may be brushing past our destiny (if one believes in such things as destiny).  It creates the opportunity for second chances.  I wonder how often those second chances actually materialize, though.  Just because we stare at cute members of the opposite sex across the subway car doesn't mean that they are staring back.  It seems to me that the only thing more unlikely than mutual attraction is that he or she will actually ever find your posting on craigslist.  And, even if they do, it only serves to prove that you were too lazy or spineless to take the risk of approaching and being rejected face to face. 

In the end, the "missed connections" page winds up just below toddler leashes on the list of ideas that seem like genius solutions to common problems but, in practice, are actually kind of depressing.  But there wouldn't be a market for it if there wasn't a problem to begin with.  Which really begs the question:  what keeps us from making all those connections in the first place?

There are plenty of rants on the "missed connections" page by girls wanting to be noticed, lamenting the general malaise of the male population when it comes to approaching women.  But, there are just as many rants by men about how women don't make themselves approachable.  I have news for these folks -- these most likely aren't really "missed connections."  That guy probably didn't approach you because he didn't feel compelled.  And that girl didn't make eye contact with you because she's not interested.  I would hazard a guess that half of the connections on craigslist are less "missed" than they are avoided.

As a single girl in New York City, between my commute, running errands, and meeting up with friends (read: normal, ordinary stuff), I see at least twenty good looking guys on a normal day.  With all of whom I'd be happy to strike up a conversation.  So, why don't I?  Honest answer: apathy.  A lot of decision-making is a function of constant subconscious cost-benefit analysis.  I like this sweater, but do I like it $100-worth?  Eh.  That guy I just passed is cute, but is he turn-around-and-flag-him-down cute?  Again, eh.  Not likely. 

There are definitely times when someone warrants more than an "Eh", however.  What we do with those people separates the mice from the men.  When we are presented with merit and opportunity and a split second to react, do we choose action or inaction?  I have no idea how many men think about stopping me in the street or in the subway or on line in a store.  But, I do know how many actually do.  (Surprisingly more than you think.  I can remember at least three or four in the last six months.)  And, I can honestly say that actually taking the initiative to strike up a conversation causes a guy's stock to skyrocket.  The guy may not be dashingly handsome, but the pure mettle such a move demonstrates makes him seem more attractive.  That being said, he may only be inching upward from relative obscurity to tentative admiration.  I still might not give him my phone number.  But, he got a whole heck of a lot closer than the guy who walked past without even smiling!

From time to time, I will even feel the overwhelming desire to reach out to a stranger, myself.  To say, "That's a nice suit."  Or to comment on the sweltering heat in the subway.  Or to ask his opinion.  Or for directions.  Or where his accent is from.  Or to generally express my enthusiasm that someone so handsome has crossed my path.  Sometimes that's where it ends -- just a compliment or a comment.  And sometimes, someone actually takes my card and calls me back.  We can't expect to win every time we step onto the field.  But, we don't thwart defeat by not entering the fray; rather, we guarantee it.  Rejection is a natural counterpart to risk. 

E recently told me that he doesn't generally approach women because he doesn't want his intentions to be misunderstood.  He doesn't want to come off as "the creep" trying to pick up ladies at the bar.  Understandable.  (For various reasons, I view this as a positive thing.)  But, on a purely conceptual level, what does it matter what they think of your intentions?  You know what your intentions are.  Your actions will prove that out, if you're given a chance.  And, if they do think you're a creep and give you the cold shoulder, then whose loss is it anyway?  Whether you make yourself the creep or the wallflower, you'll probably never see that person again either way.  The only thing that separates the possibility of success from the certainty of failure is the decision to act.

In a city of 8 million people, we have the distinct benefit of a seemingly unlimited number of opportunities to reach out.  Our basic anonymity both makes our victories seem more precious and rare and allows our foibles to melt into general obscurity.   Therefore, don't hesitate to act; we cannot be diminished by the chances that we take.  As William Hensley famously put it:  "I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my Soul."  No matter what direction we are headed, we have no hope of progress if we don't take that first step.




http://www.sophieblackall.com/


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Obviously, I have been too busy to write for a while, so I have a whole cache of great places lined up for review.  I'll start with just a few of the best here.  I highly recommend you take action on these spots.  Don't let them die in the grave of "missed connections."

Keybar
East 13th St. between 1st Ave. and Ave. A

The eternal hunt for the decent happy hour ends here.  Seriously.  For every drink you buy until 11p.m., they give you a ticket for a free drink (same price as the drink you bought).  This was especially awesome to R and I, who were drinking $12 martinis for $6.  The drinks were ok (not spectacular), but definitely good enough for $6.  The place got packed by 10 p.m., and it wasn't all that big.  But, everyone seemed pretty friendly, including the bar tender.  Not a bad choice for happy hour in the East Village.

Cafe Mogador
St. Mark's Place between 1st Ave. and Ave. A
Disclaimer: I have only had take out from this place.  But, it was so good, E and I ordered the exact same meal both times.  The atmosphere in the place (while we were waiting for our food) was cute and cozy with distinct Middle Eastern touches.  Their hummus/baba/tabbouleh platter is fantastic, with balanced spices and a sort of smoky flavor to the baba.  But, the basmati rice (that came with the chicken kebab) stole the show.  We had no idea where the flavors came from, but we couldn't get enough of it.  The restaurant was moderately crowded when we were there on a Saturday night, so I can only assume that others would agree that this place is worthy of a repeat performance or three.

Locanda Verde
Corner of Greenwich St. and N. Moore St.

Oh. My. God.  Andrew Carmellini, formerly of Cafe Boloud, opened this restaurant a while back (his first in New York) in TriBeCa.  The concept combines the homeyness of a "local" establishment and a commitment to fresh food (hence, the smallish menu).  I have been wanting to try it and took E's birthday as the perfect opportunity.  I cannot say enough good things about it.  First, it is flawless in design --both with regard to decor and use of space.  The dark, sort of rough hewn wine-laden Italian-ness of it all gave it a distinctly low-key feel.  And, apparently, the front of the restaurant serves coffee and pastries in the morning and doubles as dining space at night.  The wine list was all European, and our server knew exactly what wine to recommend (it was delicious).  But that's not the end.  We shared quite a few dishes, but the stand-outs were definitely the pastas and the dessert.  We ordered the orecchiette with duck sauce and broccoli rabe (savory and fresh) and the pumpkin agnolotti (sweet and buttery).  They could not have been more different or more delicious.  We literally couldn't stop talking about them even after they were gone.  The brussel sprouts with pancetta and pecorino outshone the scallops, for sure.  And the maple budino tasted like everything you love about Autumn.  Just....yes.

All's Fair in Love and Blogging

I suppose this day had to come.  One can pepper one's blog posts with tidbits about one's dating life, dating partners, and dating opinions for only so long before one is called to the carpet for something one wrote.  And by "one," I mean me. 

Whether it is the result of a personality trait of mine or a symptom of the relative anonymity the vastness of the internet affords, I try to communicate what I think without fear of judgment and to use adjectives and other generally descriptive language to effect that communication as effectively and precisely as possible.  For that reason, I anticipate a certain amount of dissonance from the public at large and from those I write about in particular.  Clearly, some topics have spawned debate.  I have even had exes contact me to comment upon or clarify something they read about themselves in my posts. 

Recently, however, someone contacted me about a description of himself in one of my older posts -- a guy I had gone on one, maybe two, dates with months and months ago (we'll call him Mr. X).  I had not exactly anticipated Mr. X ever reading what I had written about him, but I can hardly be surprised because, as he pointed out, I was quite careless about protecting him from it.  While I didn't exactly intend for him to read it, I suppose I was subconsciously ambivalent or perhaps even wanted him to read what I had written.  In a way, it was a mode of communicating feelings I had had about him but that I deemed neither worthy nor appropriate for communication at the time.  Needless to say, my description of Mr. X was not what one would choose to read about oneself in a public forum.

Because I am one who rises to the occasion for self-defense, what ensued was a lengthy email exchange that I will mildly describe as snide from both sides.  Unfortunately, as is commonplace in the world of the written word, a lot of the conflict hinged on interpretation of tone and intention.  I.e. I felt I was using descriptive language that best communicated my opinion and feelings on the topic; Mr. X felt I was unnecessarily harsh and demeaning.  The separation between what I meant and how he felt was a matter of degree.  (I apologized and admitted my language was insensitive, but my apology was on scale with my intentions not with the depth of his hurt feelings.  Therefore, the sparring had to continue either until he felt I had suffered in kind or until he tired of the volley.)

Now, I believe that there are two kinds of days:  (a) good days and (b) days when you learn something.  The day of the email from Mr. X was of the latter sort.  So, as usual, I got to thinking.  And, upon further analysis, I determined that Mr. X's issue, apart from the retributive instinct I saw kicking in, consisted of a two-fold folly on my part: (1) Much of his discourse consisted of chastising me for my choice to say what I did in a "public forum," and (2) the remainder of his anger was the result of what he characterized as "talking shit" about him.

The "public forum" aspect was a moot point, I argued to him.  While Mr. X was certainly able to recognize himself, he was at the time and remains to this day, for all intents and purposes, completely anonymous to the entire (very small) readership of this blog.  In fact, I doubt anyone reading this now is even aware of his existence in the world, let alone his association with me.  It was, after all, only one or two dates (that, I'll admit, I doubt I even mentioned to anyone until now).  In any case, there was pretty much zero risk of identification.

And, in my estimation, "talking shit" involves an intent to publicly defame, which the anonymity aspect would negate as well, not to mention the fact that, though unfavorable, I believe what I said to be true.  (I have been informed that I came to this conclusion because I am a lawyer and too logical for my own good.)  So, (backtracking a bit) I guess the real issue for Mr. X was that I had a negative opinion of him in the first place.  (Busted -- my fault for putting it somewhere where he could see it.)  And, yes, negative opinions can sting especially when they touch on a sensitive topic.  But, come on, man -- we hardly knew each other.  Why does my opinion matter all that much?

Only Mr. X knows for sure.  But, in my experience, the opinions that matter most are the ones that come from someone in whom we have established credibility.  Despite only going on one or two dates, Mr. X and I did quite a bit of chatting, over the course of which it became clear that we got along well on a personality level.  As humans, we are all constantly in search of affirmation.  And, when someone comes along that validates us as people, we tend to accredit them with a certain level of authority on the topic.  Someone who likes us automatically becomes an expert on who to like.  But, if that now-expert then exhibits a negative opinion of us, what are we to do?

While the bad opinions of those of little consequence to us prove relatively easy to disregard, the bad opinions of those in whom we have vested some amount of authority can feel like an "F" to an overachiever.  This is especially true for those soft spots where we have only a tenuous grasp on our positive image of ourselves to begin with.  For instance, a stanger on the street might call a woman "fat" in a fit of frustration and be shortly dismissed by her as petty.  But, if her boyfriend were to call her "fat", it would feel like a kick in the gut.  It is the rare female who would meet that accusation with a polite "We'll agree to disagree."

In the end, the opinions of others only matter to the extent we let them.  The only truly consequential opinion is the one we have of ourselves.  So, the natural reaction when someone who we've vested with authority "talks trash" about us is to extricate ourselves from that authority.  It would be nice if simply saying "No, I don't care what you think" was enough.  But, deny as we might, the reality is that we do (or did at some point) care.  Instead we must either believe that we are, indeed, "fat" because the authority says so; or, we must decide that the authority is wrong, which means we were also wrong to place our faith in them to begin with.  Damned if you do; damned if you don't. 

In the end, the easiest and most effective way to remove our self-perception from the opinion of another is to denigrate that person until the credibility is figuratively beat out of him or her:  We were deceived as to his or her character.  We so innocently and optimistically trusted this wolf in sheep's clothing.  The offense!  The revulsion!  The villain!  How dare he think I'm fat when I am clearly flawless!  The fault lies with him! 

A simple difference of opinion is too benign an explanation for something so hurtful, so the only solution is indignance.

Maybe this explains the level of Mr. X's animosity toward me for believing him to be less than ideal.  Maybe it doesn't.  But, what it does do for sure is give me pause and a little more patience when it comes to the irrational reactions of myself and others.  After all, we're all just boys and girls flailing around the big, wide-open universe trying to find someone to love who loves us back.  Sometimes, we'll put our faith in people who let us down.  But, hopefully, that will only serve to help us appreciate more those who don't.

I celebrated my 29th birthday this past weekend, which served as a fantastic reminder that, while the world judges us harshly for the people that we are, our friends love us dearly for the people that we want to be.  Great moments and great memories were made this weekend all over town...

Sacred Chow
Sullivan St. btw Bleecker and 3rd

This is the third organic/vegetarian/vegan place I have been since moving to New York.  I'd say it's standard fare as far as this sort of joint goes.  The restaurant itself was tiny and cute, and the waitress was pleasant.  They had plenty of gluten-free options for L to choose from.  One of the nice things about it was the rotating specialty menu -- a different soup, side dish, and type of hummus every day.  The day we went was walnut pesto hummus.  Possibly the best hummus I've ever had.  Really something special.  This, like all places of this genre, is not for picky eaters. 

The Grisly Pear
MacDougal btw Bleecker and 3rd

There are two schools of thought when it comes to karaoke -- the private room school and the open bar school.  Some karaoke'ers prefer to rent the private room and rock out with only their nearest and dearest to hear.  Others prefer throwing their hat in the ring with the rest of us and belting out 80's classics in the wide open bar.  I generally opt for the latter, which is why I love the Grisly Pear.  If you are not prepared to hunker down for the long haul, appreciate the stylings of the local crew, and make a complete ass of yourself, then you are in the wrong place.  That being said, the karaoke is in the back.  So, there is also "normal" bar space.  But, if you're looking for a cozy, intimate, we're-all-friends-here karaoke vibe, look no further.  My one complaint: the DJ unilaterally changed the song order at his discretion, so you could end up waiting hours for your song to come up.  And, if you're wondering, on this particular night my song of choice was "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls.  That song was made for karaoke.


Mole
Allen St. btw E. Houston St. and Stanton St.

I love mole.  The sauce, not the restaurant.  And,  have had gooood mole in Mexico and in Cleveland.  So far, I have not had good mole in New York.  I did not like this mole -- it didn't make use of all of the flavors typical in mole.  I am no food critic, so I can't aptly describe it, but it was missing something.  It was a little bitter, in fact, and not as spicy as it should have been.  The food, in general, however was pretty good.  Although, you can get Mexican food just as good for less money elsewhere.  I liked the small, crowded atmosphere.  And, the waitstaff bent over backwards to be accommodating, kind, and helpful. 

Esca
West 43rd St. btw 9th and 10th Ave.

E and I went to see Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson a couple of nights ago (which I highly recommend, by the way).  And, set out in search of dinner afterwards.  This place was not too far a walk from the theatre on W. 45th, and E had been there a couple times before with good results.  I have got to say that I loved this place.  Maybe it was the company or my good mood, but everything was perfect from start to finish.  The staff was knowledgeable and polite.  The food was tasty and unpretentious.  And the atmosphere struck a nice balance between sophisticated and rustic.  The menu was dominated by seafood.  We had a scallop trio crudo that was maybe the freshest raw shellfish I have ever had.  And the salt-crusted fish, baked under three pounds of salt and cracked at a table in the middle of the dining room was flaky and mild, just the way it was meant to be.  Granted, I had the benefit of being there with an expert orderer who chose our entire menu, but I would hazard a guess that you really can't go wrong even on your own.

How to Create a Happy Accident

Little known fact about me:  I love surprises of all shapes and sizes.  Whether I am being surprised or doing the surprising, there is just something about the unexpected that thrills me.  Appreciating surprises does signify a little relinquishment of control over the moment-to-moment operations of our lives.  (Which is probably why my friends with more control-freak tendencies don't appreciate surprises so much.)  But, I feel like surrendering control is one of the main reasons that surprises are so appealing.  In my humble opinion, nothing beats a happy surprise -- it's the adrenaline rush of letting go sprinkled with joy. 

I recently read an article about the pursuit of happiness whose basic premise was that, the more focus we put on attaining and maintaining happiness, the more unhappy we become.  By a combination of dashed expectations and performance pressure, the ambition to create happiness in our lives can entirely overwhelm and frustrate us.  In my estimation, by contrast, the happiness that truly makes us happiest is the happiness that happens when we don't expect it.  For me, there is just something about the notion that happiness can find me even when I am not looking for it that reassures me that the universe is ultimately good.

And, life has been full of surprise happiness lately.  From one friend getting a raise to another finding a great guy when she least expected, the good karma they projected into the universe has finally come back around full circle for them.  I, myself, have even been pleasantly surprised by the way life has worked out in my favor in the last month.  But, in thinking about it further, I begin to wonder whether all of these surprises are really surprises at all.  L's raise is, no doubt, less a surprise than a measured response to her superior job performance.  JK's unexpected romance is not so much random as the result of embracing life as it comes to her and not turning down to opportunity to open herself up to the people that step into it.  And, my own good luck can hardly be considered happy happenstance, as I literally chased it down in the street. 

Suddenly, our collective good luck doesn't seem so accidental.  That is not to say that good job performance, openness to new people, and relentless pursuit will necessarily yield positive results every time.  So, the surprise, I guess, is that the reward in these cases turned out to be all that we might have hoped but never dared to expect.  Still, I can't help noting, that the surprises, as unexpected and exhilarating as they were (and still are), are due in equal measure to each of our efforts to create the opportunity for surprise as they are to pure dumb luck.  I wonder -- While happiness may not respond to demands, perhaps it is slightly more receptive to gentle persuasion? 

Needless to say, I see the point argued in the article above, but I would like to add my own little caveat that, though happiness may flee from too rigorous pursuit, it would be foolish to think that we could expect happiness to enter our lives without opening our doors to it.  Keeping in mind that happiness is not exactly Newtonian (i.e. no action guarantees an equal and opposite reaction), there is no harm in creating space in which unexpected happiness might happen.  If we construct opportunities for happiness, when it does show up at our doorstep on a random Saturday night, we can be delighted at the "surprise".

Maybe my good luck has something to do with all of the openings I've been giving happiness lately.  In an effort to spread the joy around and to further aid all of us in our mutual quest to fortuitously stumble on to happiness, I have compiled a list of 15 New York City date ideas for the 2010 Fall/Winter season that either I or someone I know can vouch for as particularly wonderful opportunities for joy to surprise us:

1.  Brooklyn Bridge:  Walk across it.  A very simple concept with very promising results.  You can get anything from ice cream to coffee to a gourmet dinner on the other side.  In my experience, the romantic potential is high, depending on the risks you're willing to take.  It's a consummate New York experience, too, so take a camera.

2.  Apple Picking:  Or pumpkin picking.  Or cider drinking.  Or foliage gazing.  There are any number of cute little orchards and farms only a train (or bus) ride away from the city.  If you're lucky, you'll pick one with a wine store nearby (ahem ::Outhouse Orchards in North Salem:: ahem). I have found offmanhattan.com to be a useful resource for this and other types of countrified activities.  It gives the date a quaint, simple vibe.  And the train ride provides ample time for snuggling.

3.  Top of the Met:  Through late Fall, the Roof Garden Cafe is open at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  It provides a perfect opportunity to wander through ancient Egypt or the American Colonial period and wind up with breathtaking views of the city and Central Park, in addition to whatever weather resistant installation they've got going up there at the time.  Sunset on a clear day from the top of the Met is a perfect reminder that the true art of New York City is not just confined to its museums.
 

4.  Wine and Cheese from Grand Central Market:  Everyone loves wine and cheese.  And if you find yourself on a date with someone who doesn't, they better be lactose intolerant or vegan.  Otherwise, I've got to question your taste.  The majesty of Grand Central Terminal has the potential to perk up any date (especially if you are cute enough to introduce someone to the "whispering walls" in the basement).  But, wander the terminal to buy wine at Grande Harvest and fresh artisanal cheeses in the Market and take it only a few blocks over to Bryant Park, and you've got yourself a picnic of romantic proportions.  Just remember to purchase a bottle with a twist top and keep it under wraps in public.

5.  Off the Island:  Explore an outer borough for an afternoon.  There is no better way to bond than by the process of forging new inroads together.  Brooklyn is always a favorite and can be had for just a 15 minute subway ride across the East River.  There is no better place to hipster-spot and eat baked goods out of trucks parked on the side of the road.  Or venture over to Hoboken (the honorary outer borough), and treat yourself to Ralph's banana creme water ice and a stroll along the waterfront for only the cost of 10 minutes on the PATH.

6.  Be a Tourist:  How many of us live and work in New York City day in and day out but have never seen Ellis Island or topped the Empire State Building?  (Hand raised.)  The reason for that is obvious -- we hate lines and crowds and out-of-towners.  But, even if you cringe at the idea of fighting the foreigners at the Statue of Liberty, don't discount the charm of being a tourist in your own city for a day.  Suggestion: take a pedi-cab ride through Central Park.  Not only can you negotiate your own price, but they usually build in a cute little narrative about the bigger landmarks, point out celebrity residences, and pause for pictures.  If not for the pedi-cab, I would never have found out about weekend Salsa lessons in the Park.

7.  Ice Skating:  Rockefeller Center, Bryant Park, South Street Seaport, Central Park, Chelsea Piers -- the options for outdoor ice skating in NYC abound as soon as the air gets cold enough for a light jacket.  Maybe it's cliched, but there's a reason ice skating in NYC features so prominently in romantic comedies -- it's romantic.  And fun (or funny, depending on your abilities).  In any case, it gives you an opportunity to hold hands and warm each other up afterwards (::wink wink::).

8.  Chelsea Market and the Highline:  Who says dating is better after dark?  Buck tradition and schedule yourself a morning date.  Grab a pastry from any one of the fine bakeries in Chelsea Market (recommend the Cherry Cream Scone at Amy's Bread) and a cappuccino from Ninth Street Espresso.  Then, take your operation on up to the Highline (entrance at 14th Street) and soak up whatever sun is left in the season.  Word of warning: it can get breezy up there, so don't underestimate the value of an extra layer or two.  It's a nice little walk and affords you the opportunity to make allusions to what you'd do with a night in the Standard Hotel...

9.  Get All Dolled Up:  Fancy for the sake of fancy.  It's rare that we ever really have occasion to hit the town in our finest, so create one on your own!  Do it up right -- pick your date up in a taxi and whisk her away to the MOBar or The Lobby Lounge at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.  Sip on fancy cocktails in your fancy clothes and trip the light fantastic in Midtown, like they used to in the good old days when men wore hats and ladies wore stockings and wooing was an art en vogue.

10.  IKEA Water Taxi:  There is nothing intrinsically romantic about a home goods store.  But, the novelty of a water taxi ride from Manhattan's Pier 11 to the Brooklyn IKEA just might lend a little credibility to the date. (Plus, it's free on weekends.) And, provided you're in the right company, getting comfy in the artistically designed IKEA showrooms can turn into anything from a giggle-fest to a serious discussion on contemporary home design.  It's something different, anyway.  And if you're feeling really adventurous, purchase a ridiculous kitchen gadget and challenge yourselves to go home and find a way to use it cooking dinner for each other.

11.  Brooklyn Botanic Garden:  It might be a garden, but it's open year-round.  Admittedly, the outdoor areas might get a little drab in the winter.  But, there is always something to learn at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.  Plus, even in the winter, a little natural beauty in Brooklyn can't help but bring out the natural beauty in all of us.  A good excuse for a stroll hand in hand if nothing else.

12.  Hiking:  Speaking of natural beauty, nothing seems farther removed from New York City than nature itself.  But, only an 80 minute train ride on Metro-North away, you can get both of your blood pumping on a hike of Breakneck Ridge in the Hudson Highlands State Park.  Don a pair of hiking boots or some broken-in sneakers and scale the rocky terrain to attain gorgeous views of the "other" New York.  There's nothing like a little physical exertion to set the mood.  Remember to bring plenty of water and a snack or lunch to share at the top!

13.  Cooking Class:  There's no shortage of cooking classes available in Manhattan.  But, Rustico Cooking is particularly accessible and specializes in Italian.  Who doesn't like Italian??  Rustico offers a range of classes from Beginner's Italian to pizza making to specialty sauces, mostly for under $100 per person.  It may be pricey, but knowledge is invaluable and you may just make an impression with how well you work with your hands (and follow instructions...::grin::).  If nothing else, you'll be able to whip up something delightful for the next date you want to impress.

14.  Window Shopping in SoHo:  Hand in hand.  Arm in arm.  Wrist-deep in each others' back pockets, junior high style.  There's no wrong way to window shop in SoHo.  Steer clear of the human press on Broadway, and you just might manage a private moment or two smelling candles or exclaiming over unique handi-crafts.  Plus, window shopping with someone expedites insight into their sense of style in a way that might otherwise take months to discern.  If all goes well, you can cap it off with a stop at Baked By Melissa and a stroll up to the iconic Washington Square Park.  But, the minute he picks up that rhinestone-studded Ed Hardy shirt, beat it out of there and change your number asap.

15.  Play Hooky:  Disclaimer --> I am in no way advocating shirking responsibility or subpar job performance.  That being said, nothing adds a thrill to a date quite like the forbidden fruit of playing hooky.  Call in sick (hey, it's a mental health day) and make off with your partner in crime.  Doctors have proven the mental and emotional benefits of playing hooky from work.  (If you don't believe me, check it out for yourself -- The Free Spirit Project.)  Of course, I recommend having little to no plan for the day, whatsoever.  Leaving the door open to possibilities and living in the moment leaves a lot of room for surprises.  But whether you use the day to explore the city or stay between the sheets, it's a universal truth that being bad just feels so good...it's science.

English physicist and novelist, C.P. Snow, once said, "The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase; if you pursue happiness you'll never find it."  I tend to believe that there is some truth to that.  But, it's definitely not the whole story.  American poet James Oppenheim completed the thought when he remarked, "The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet."  It is not enough to view happiness as a goal to be attained.  To do so sets happiness, like most goals, just out of reach.  Rather, make the possibility of happiness tangible and bring it into the present by creating opportunities for happiness to find you.