If I were to dream up a perfect first kiss in New York City, there are two scenarios that come to mind. One, of course, would be in Central Park, in the evening on some quiet side path out of the view of random passersby. The second would be along one of the rivers, sitting on one of the many benches or standing on one of the piers at night, with the lights from New Jersey (I’m thinking Hudson…I do live on the Upper West Side) on the other side.
Except that it’s possible that one of these two might have happened earlier this evening. Or not.