I am 32-year-young woman on an eight-year-long mission to find a gentleman who has changed my entire life, yet whose identity has remained a mystery to me. This quest has taken me from the crowded streets of New York City all the way to the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem.
In September 2008, like thousands women before me, I inserted a hand-written note into one of the million tear-washed cracks of the holy Western Wall, asking the Lord to send me personal happiness. But deep in my heart, I knew that the true happiness would consist of finding this man who is a mythical reflection of my self — well, at least, on the outside. It all began on July 7, 2001, inside The Nick’s Kitchen restaurant at 9th Avenue and 14th Street in Manhattan. Absorbed in thoughts about an upcoming job interview, I had been sipping hot coffee and aimlessly looking around when suddenly I noticed a strange figure sitting at a table behind me. What I felt next was nothing short of a shock. Before our eyes connected in a long and piercing stare, I had never realized how closely facial features of a man could resemble mine. Amidst myriad sparks they birthed, his eyes seemed made of glass. I sank in his eyes. I looked into his eyes as if I looked into the mirror. Perhaps I should have said “hello.” Instead, I succumbed to shyness and turned away, burning the cosmic bridge that had been built by our retinas. But this encounter has left a certain footprint in his heart, I thought. After he exited in the company of two male friends, the stranger paused for a moment to take another glimpse of me through the glass wall of the restaurant. This time our eyes generated such overwhelming energy that the mysterious stranger lost his balance and fell to the ground. Soon after the stranger disappeared into the crowd of Manhattan, I paid the bill and left, hoping to grasp another glimpse of him. He reemerged running across the street around 9th Avenue and 14th Street while throwing glances at me. The final encounter of our eyes — the one I would regret for years to come — happened just seconds later. He stood at the entrance of garage pathway, glancing at me. I should have told him something, a sentence, even a word — this could perhaps bring some sort of conclusion to the mystery. Yet I did not. He jumped in his SUV and drove as fast as he could, perhaps due to his own shock of meeting me. Every woman knows her fate. Every woman can successfully identify her Mr. Right. As I walked home that night, I knew that the mysterious stranger from the restaurant — a curly-haired brunette in shorts — was sent to me from above. But this discovery was not a happy moment. It was just the beginning of a long and tedious, yet unsuccessful search until years later, on September 25, 2008, I unexpectedly met my fate again. I had just returned from the above-mentioned trip to Israel and, just like on that day when I met him for the first time, I was on the way to a job interview. Around East 31st Street and Park Avenue, a man wearing a cap and carrying what seemed like a large musical instrument case walked towards me. It was him. I didn’t expect that the prayer would be answered so fast. Overwhelmed by emotions, I nevertheless tried to start a conversation and asked him for directions. He asked about my accent; I felt he recognized me. Then, suddenly, I began to run. I stopped a few seconds later and looked back, but he was already gone. All that I knew at that time was that he had entered the building located at 127 East 31st Street, which is the home of Pacific Television Center. I later paid several visits to PAC TV’s employees at this address because I thought he could have been participating in one of their programs. But no one wanted to shed any light on who this man could have been. I even hired private investigators who gave me the names of the building’s residents. I sent them letters asking to identify the man of my life. But no one answered. I have fell into a major depression, blaming myself for running away from the man for whom I’ve been searching all these years. I knew that the second meeting was nothing short of a miracle. It was God’s answer to my prayer in front of the Wailing Wall. I knew that He sent me the second chance to finally get hold of the man who resembles me so much but I blew it. This story is perhaps my last opportunity to find the mysterious gentleman. I’m including my picture because I’m sure he will recognize me. Whether we’re destined to be together or not, I want to discover who this man really is and place stop to the sadness and guilt that hunted me since our second meeting. In hopes of getting back to normal life, I’ve considered starting a new life in another country. But I am still here in the United States because the potential man of my life might be only a breath away.

(Screen) Name: Arianna