You guys. You guys.
So… something completely absurd happened this week. I think I accidentally went on a date with a magician? Like, a legit one. With a deck of cards and doves and everything. In Central Park. And honestly? It was weirdly magical.
Let me explain.
This All Started With Coffee and a Bad Hair Day
I had one of those mornings. The “nothing-in-my-latte-but-foam” kind of day. My apartment was being impossible (the water pressure? non-existent), and I swear my curling iron has a personal vendetta against me.
So, of course, the only thing to do was to throw on my oversized Céline sunglasses, a snuggly vintage scarf I thrifted in Williamsburg (I know, who even am I?), and go breathe in some fresh(ish) Manhattan air.
Naturally, I ended up in Central Park. Because New York in fall? It’s just the best. Golden leaves, cute dogs in cashmere sweaters, and joggers who make me feel like I’ve already worked out by just watching them.
Anyway. That’s when I saw him.
The Guy With the Deck of Cards
He was just standing near Bethesda Fountain. Tall, scruffy in that “I-don’t-care-but-I-care” kinda way, and doing sleight of hand with a deck of vintage-looking playing cards. Not for a crowd. Just… for himself.
I walked by, and he caught my eye.
“Pick a card,” he said, all casual.
Because apparently in New York, strange handsome men offering you card tricks in public is completely acceptable?
And so I did. (I mean… would you say no to a rogue David Copperfield in distressed denim?)
Spoiler: The Card Was Always the Queen of Hearts
Okay, I’m not entirely sure how it happened—but suddenly I was sitting on a bench with him, sipping a hot cocoa he practically conjured out of nowhere (seriously, where did that come from?), and talking about everything from Carrie Bradshaw’s questionable shoe storage choices to whether time is an illusion.
You know, just casual first-convo stuff.
Now, here's the thing. I’m usually more of a “wine bar in SoHo” kind of first date girl. But Central Park with crisp leaves crunching under your boots, strangers meandering by, and apparently, impromptu magic shows? Ugh. It’s straight out of some Nora Ephron fever dream.
“You never really know someone until they guess your card — twice.”
— Me, now apparently a woman who dates magicians?
Things I Learned on My (Maybe?) Magical Date
- Magicians are real people and not just guys who live in Las Vegas or your high school talent show.
- Pigeons in the park do not like disappearing acts. One literally chased him. I died.
- Sometimes, the best city moments aren’t planned—they just pull a card out from behind your ear.
Also, Can We Talk About Central Park in October?
Because while yes, I was being wooed by a stranger pulling coins out of tree bark, I was also having A Moment™. There’s just nothing like NYC in the fall. The saxophone guy by the Bow Bridge was playing “Moon River,” people. MOON. RIVER. I nearly proposed to myself.
Here’s what I recommend if you’re craving your own rom-com scene:
- Start at the Conservatory Water and get a hot pretzel
- Wander toward The Mall (it has that walking-into-a-dream feeling)
- Take yourself seriously at the Literary Walk and quote some Shakespeare in your head
- End at Bethesda Terrace and pretend you’re living in a movie
(Trust me. Bonus points if you wear something long and flowy that catches the breeze dramatically.)
So… Was It a Date?
Honestly? I don’t even know. He never asked for my number — he just smiled and handed me my original card (yup, the Queen of Hearts), and said:
“You’ll find me again when you’re ready to believe in magic.”
Right??
So either I was charmed into emotional oblivion… or I was conned by a guy with excellent cheekbones and a pack of cards. Either way, it was the most New York thing to ever happen to me.
And I kind of loved it.
Xoxo,
Rachel
P.S. If anyone knows a magician named Finn who looks like he rolled out of an Anthropologie ad and smells faintly like campfire and bergamot — let me know. I just might have another card to pick.
