In autumn, the brightly colored pumpkins lining brownstones from the West Village to Harlem liven up the grey infused sidewalks of New York. As cold winds rush through the canyons of skyscrapers, a new season is marked.

No other place exhibits the theatrical change of season better experienced than (shockingly), Central Park. When Mother Nature takes a magical crayon and paints the park in orange hues, it not only changes the verdant green grounds, but also represents a new chapter in life.

For the New York singleton, the cold front signifies the special need for a cuddle buddy to make the cold nights cozier. This New York singleton (yours truly) only had one thing on his mind.

“I’d like a large hazelnut coffee, hot, said I on the first day, where temperatures dipped into the low 50’s. The transition from cold to hot coffee has always marked the welcoming of the fall season.

On a typical weekday morning at the deli, I put on my earphones and drifted into the land of musical melodies. “I want you to want me” by Cheap Trick randomly played. “Wow, this is one of the best songs ever,” was my initial reaction.

I glanced up, as the song played and in walked “Mr. Matinee Idol, a beautiful serving of beef cake. He was traditionally handsome. Although I wandered as he strolled in. What is his personality like? He didn’t have smiling eyes, but a stern demeanor.

In my head it didn’t matter. To me, he walked in, while one of the best love songs of all time played. “Wow, is this is some sort of coincidence? Or is life throwing me signs? I pondered while scarfing down a bagel.

The next morning, I was at the same deli (eating the same bagel/coffee combo), when “mad about you” by Belinda Carlisle played. “What happened, while this song played?” you ask? As predicted, Mr. Matinee Idol strolled in. I was mentally dumbfounded. He kept walking in, every time I jammed to a romantic song.

“That’s it, tomorrow, if he walks in while another love song plays, it really is a sign” was my analytical assumption and secret hope of what would happen next.

“Isn’t it ironic? Don’t you think?” He walked in, while that “Ironic” (by Alanis Morisette) song played on my iPod. That was life just having a laugh. Although, I didn’t pursue a budding romance, the musical accompaniment to his appearances delighted me.