Sometimes there’s a moment when you’re at a friend’s party and you see someone across a room who you might recognize but you don’t know from where. You exchange glances until one of you (him) breaks the silence and comes over to say hello. You talk for hours and when you decide to leave the party and there’s no paper to be found, he writes his number on your arm and, with pleading eyes, says you really have to call or text him. You both know that you have to see each other again.

And you do text him, the very next morning because why play games? He says he’s waiting for the bus and going back DC, where he lives. You text and talk daily for the next weeks and you somehow gather the courage to ask him to be your date to your girlfriend’s wedding, since he’d planned to come up the next day to hang out anyway. To your absolute shock he accepts, excitedly even.

He’s a wicked dancer and super personable. You’re totally impressed. You spend the weekend together, talking and getting to know one another. You eat pizza, drink wine, stroll through Central Park, watch an awful movie on Netflix.

Before he leaves he thanks you for a brilliant weekend, and for showing him a part of New York that he’d never seen before that he quite liked. As you watch him drive away, you smile and think how nice it was to get to know a new person and you admit that you might not see him again for a while. But you definitely enjoyed the escape from reality for the weekend.