By Meredith Siegel Cohen, Creator, Single and Striking Out

New York City is electric. It’s infused with an energy that pulses late into the night and right through early morning.

I recall being a little girl driving in with my parents, and feeling that energy as we would burst from the Holland Tunnel to a throng of skyscrapers. I remember sitting on the Greyhound bus as teenager, on my way to visit friends, when the magnificent skyline first came into view, and feeling the excitement of the city. That feeling has never dissipated, and was recently renewed when I approached the Big Apple on a NJ Transit Rail, on my way to a weekend with my children.

The first night was mother-daughter time, and we enjoyed dinner at a burger joint ripe with young, interesting people-watching. Then it was off to pedicures — only in NYC can you get a pedicure at 7 p.m. on a Friday night!

Feeling tired from a full day, I was ready to turn in — until I realized it was only 8:28 p.m. Too early to call it a night on a Friday… even for me. So I turned to Lil and suggested we go for a drink.

On our way to a bar she likes, she spotted a place she hadn’t yet tried. I was game — there are so many, it made no difference to me.

It was a charming little spot with four seats at a tiny bar in the front. One was occupied by a gentleman enjoying his dinner, so we sat beside him and ordered espresso martinis — my first. Oh, what I’ve been missing. The perfect after-dinner, dessert-ish drink!

The vodka went down smooth, and I started to truly relax. I asked Lil whether we should order dessert, and just at that moment, the man next to me piped in:

“The tartufo looks delicious. I’ve never tried it because it’s so big.”

To which I replied, “Well, today is your lucky day. We’ll order it and split it three ways.”

He declined, but his comment sparked a lively conversation among the three of us. He had an interesting professional background, and the discussion was engaging and fun.

Eventually, my daughter had to step away to finish some work, and we left. (I may have shared a little too much on the walk home in my martini-induced state — I was enjoying the conversation — you cut it off!)

Well, wouldn’t you know… after safely delivering me back to my hotel room just a couple blocks away, she went back to that bar and found him. She apologized for the abrupt departure, told him her mother had enjoyed meeting him, and — if he was interested — offered to share my number.

Can you even?

With some very complimentary comments, he accepted my number and did, in fact, reach out the next morning.

How fun — and different. This wasn’t a dating app. This was: I saw you in real life, tired after a long day of travel, and still wanted to see you again.

And just like that, the feeling of ‘maybe I still have it‘ came back. Whatever “it” is.

Hello, mojo.

Just when I thought you were gone — or at least on some year-long retreat — there you were, hiding in plain sight in New York City.

I appreciated his follow-through. About seven years older, he asked if I had time to get together, knowing my main purpose was spending time with my children.

I said there’s always time for a cocktail.

We met at a bar an hour before my dinner reservation, and it was a genuinely pleasant opportunity to connect with someone new — someone with a completely different life experience.

He was the first man I’d ever “dated” who had never been married, and his perspective on my marriage surprised me. From his standpoint, a 19½-year marriage was not a failure — even though it ended in divorce. To him, sustaining a relationship that long, and raising two beautiful children, was a success.

Hmmm.

While I can appreciate parts of that perspective, I’m not sure I’d go that far. But it’s a reminder that there are always new ways to look at our past — and that people come into our lives with something to teach us.

Just as he asked whether I’d ever dated someone from NYC, my children walked in.

Perfect timing.

It was funny introducing them to a man I had just met — but they’re young adults now, and there was no awkwardness. For my daughter, it was a reunion!

He gallantly paid the bill and told me to “keep in touch.”

Message received. And honestly? I didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like a love match.

But it did feel good.

Really good.

Sometimes we just need a little spark — a reminder to stay open.

Back in my New Jersey suburb, I miss the vibrance of the city. But I’m reminded that much of that energy comes from within.

And that . . . I can take anywhere.

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