Weeks went by before we arranged a second date, but when he kissed me on that crisp autumn night in Brooklyn Bridge Park after a perfect evening of Italian food, ice-cream and debating politics, a rogue thought crashed unbidden into my mind: “You’re kissing the man you’re going to marry.” I didn’t think I was looking for anything as serious as a husband, but the thought was so loud and so clear, I journalled about it that night.