This was the week for action – my dating D-Day. It was time to find out if my friend Aaron only liked me, or actually liked me.

My grand plan was to get him alone for a whole evening – something that hadn’t happened before – flirt so obviously he couldn’t mistake it for friendship, gauge his reaction, then confess to him how I felt.

A simple plan, I thought. It didn’t turn out that way.

After the fiasco at my apartment last week, Aaron became suspiciously busy at work. I knew that as a TV producer, he was working on a big segment for the Sept. 11 anniversary, but was he avoiding me?

But then I guessed that everyone was feeling a bit fried over Sept. 11, so I e-mailed Aaron and told him that he needed to get away from it all and let his hair down – with me!

I told him an acquaintance was having a big birthday drinks party in the Park bar on 10th Avenue. Why didn’t he come along?

To my joy – and considerable apprehension – he agreed.

We arranged to meet at the Hog Pit, my local bar, and go to the party together. I arrived before Aaron and found a pal of ours named Geoff sitting at the bar, so I went to join him and ordered a nerve-settling vodka and tonic.

Moments later Aaron appeared, looking slightly frazzled. He ordered a double scotch on the rocks. I wondered if he was as tense as I.

The three of us chatted a little. Geoff said he was going to a party in the East Village and invited us to come along.

I casually declined. Geoff didn’t know that this was a date. Come to think of it, neither did Aaron.

“D’you fancy grabbing a bit of supper before going to the Park?” I asked Aaron.

“Great idea,” said Geoff. “I’m starving.”

“But I thought you were going to the East Village?” I blurted.

“Oh, I’ll go later,” he said.

So the three of us had dinner at Markt. During the meal, I drank another vodka and tonic. Aaron knocked back another scotch. As soon as we finished eating, I demanded the check.

“Right, Aaron, guess we’d better get going,” I said. “Geoff, so, you’re off to the East Village, then?”

“Oh, I haven’t called my friend yet,” he replied. “Maybe I’ll come over to the Park with you guys first.”

Nooooooo!!!

“Er, I’m not sure I can take more than one person to this party,” I mumbled.

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” he replied.

So . . . the three of us went to the Park. We ordered more and more drinks. I tried to stand close to Aaron. It was all the flirting I could muster.

Then, when Aaron went for another round, I turned on Geoff.

“Look, are you going to the East Village or not?” I demanded. “Because, because . . . I need to talk to Aaron – alone.”

What excuse could I give?

“It’s something to do with, you know, this week.”

Geoff looked baffled but finally agreed to leave. By the time he’d gone, Aaron and I had each had five drinks. We were left swaying at each other.

“Guess we’re done with this party,” he slurred.

“Guess so,” I said.

Outside, we staggered back down 10th Avenue.

“Do you feel like going to another bar?” he asked. Was this an invitation or was he just being polite? I was beginning not to care.

“Sure, why not?” I replied, though it was clear neither of us needed another drink.

We found ourselves at Rhone, a swanky place with low lights and a deejay blasting techno. By the time I realized it was almost too noisy to talk, it was too late to suggest somewhere else.

We sat at the bar in the half light. I ordered a cosmo in despair. He stuck with scotch.

I drunkenly put my knee against his leg. He was too hammered to notice.

He began to ramble on about work. The music was pounding.

“I’ve been living a deeply tragic existence recently,” he half-shouted, “I’m at the studio from 8 a.m. until late, then all I seem to do is pass out on my couch watching DVDs and pining for girls.”

“Pine for girls? Pah, you?” I retorted. “I’ve never even seen you with a girl. Tell me, what girls exactly do you pine for? Do I know any of them?”

Aaron dropped his head and looked down at his drink. I defiantly swigged my cosmo. It was all over, I guessed.

Then he turned and looked me straight in the face.

“If you must know, I pine for you, Bridget,” he said. “I pine for you every day and I’ve pined for you since the moment I met you.”

I knocked the rest of my cosmo straight down my front.