ast forward one month.

The first date led to another and we are now in the middle of a mad love affair. The question of the Upper West Side Taco Bell has not come up again, but it's been lingering in the back of my mind. I ask a friend who also lives in the neighborhood. "Sure, it's still there," he says.

"Yes", I think, "I'm right.", and I'm pretty excited about that. But on the other hand I don't feel like rubbing it in. Although I only vaguely realize it, and though I haven't yet uttered the l-word, I am falling in love with her.

I want to share the bounty of my find.

It is the Sunday night before Christmas and I am headed uptown on the 1 train. I am headed to see her. I've been away all weekend and I've been anticipating the sight of her since the moment I left. Somewhere around 59th St. I'm struck with an idea. Instead of getting off at 86th St., her stop, I'll continue on to 96th.

It will be perfect. I'll prove that I was right and at the same time surprise her with the first "me too" we ever shared.

"This could not be more perfect if it were a scene from a movie", I think. The problem is that I am nowhere near as smooth or spontaneous as anyone in a movie.

As I come up the subway stairs thoughts start to race through my head. "Is she cooking dinner? What exactly does she like from Taco Bell? Soft or Crunchy?" The "You the man" cheers going on in my head are quickly replaced by a chant of "Don't fuck up".