As Valentine’s Day approached, an otherwise frigid week steamed with passion. Unlike her waffling-on-’08 sweetie, Judi Giuliani had no problem declaring — her affection for her snuggle bug, that is. “Rudy’s a very, very romantic guy,” she gushed, as the Postran a massive make-out cover photo of the pair. “We love watching Sleepless in Seattle.” The State Assembly played hard-to-get with Governor Eliot Spitzer (a real Mr. Darcy type), whose Match.com-style tactics in choosing his former flame Alan Hevesi’s replacement as comptroller were spurned for an arranged marriage with a financial-management virgin from Long Island. Heartbroken Mayor Bloomberg pined for $300 million in city funds lost in the new state budget, sobbing, “Does anyone believe we’ll ever get them back?”
Al Sharpton got hot and bothered over a report that the NYPD was being especially stop-and-frisky in black neighborhoods; Councilman Peter Vallone Jr. said Sharpton was trying to “inflame passions.” A Brooklyn Heights bank robber lusting after a teller’s cash felt a fire in his loins after cops plugged him in the gut. Boy-loses-girl lyrics penned by the accused murderer of dancer Catherine Woods (“Girl you better change your scene / With a gang of lunatics grippin’ on the Killin’ Machine”) showed a strong Barry White influence. Eligible bachelor Justin Timberlake brought sexy back to the Garden by crooning “Dick in a Box” with SNL’s Andy Samberg. Knicks center Eddy Curry vowed never to leave his new sweetheart, coach Isiah Thomas, but A-Rod refused to pledge everlasting devotion to the Yankees.
Hot — but not heavy — fashion models undeterred by new CFDA weight recommendations poured everything but their hearts out into Bryant Park toilets. (“We can smell it,” said one janitor at the shows. “They’re doing a lot of vomiting.”) And an amorous Brooklyn professor was accused of offering A’s for extracurricular efforts. “You are so pretty,” he allegedly whispered to one student while fondling her buttocks. “You don’t have to worry about [passing] this class.” —Mark Adams