A few years ago flying home from Miami to New York, I squeezed into the window seat in the first row — and buried myself in work. Just as we were landing, I looked over to see my neighbor in 1B was a very good-looking man.

He struck up a conversation as we landed and we exchanged business cards. A few e-mails later we met for dinner and then dated on and off for four months. It was odd and fun. We came from totally different circles and knew no one in common, rather like what an extended shipboard romance must have been like in another age.