At our next date in the park, she climbed a rock and declared me too raw to date. “I think we should just be friends,” she said. I didn’t begrudge her this decision. If you were to take Julie’s suitors from over the years and place them in a police lineup, I clearly was the one who most likely belonged. We walked through the Ramble, across the Sheep Meadow, and to a clearing where the skyscraping hotels of Central Park South looked luminous in the gloaming. As the light disappeared behind the Palisades and a full moon shone, she turned to me and said, “If we weren’t just friends, this would be
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