Rachel, 27, New York City
10:45 p.m., the bar: A guy friend introduces me to his single, adorable friend who's from the same Midwestern city as me. We hit it off.
3:30 a.m., my couch: He places his hand on mine. We hook up (but no sex).
10 a.m., diner: Damn, he's even cuter in daylight. Make plans to go out tomorrow. I spend rest of day reliving last night.
3 p.m., city park: We walk, then talk about our lives. As we climb a hill, he takes my hand and doesn't let go.
5:30 p.m.: Stumble upon last-minute tickets to the final showing of Shakespeare in the Park.
7 p.m.: We leave at intermission for dinner. Drink wine, eat bruschetta, and realize this is the best first-date weekend I've ever been on.
9:10 p.m., my place: He drops me off with a kiss and asks me out for later in the week. Spend the next hour recounting the amazing weekend to my roommates, my friends, my mom.
3 p.m., work: We message each other all day on Facebook. We make plans for Friday night.
8 p.m., store: Tell myself I'm only picking up groceries. End up buying an extra toothbrush and fresh peonies for the vase I've never used.
8 a.m., my bedroom: Pick medium-hot underwear — that way I won't be too tempted to let him see them, but if he does, cool.
6:30 p.m., the bar: He meets me and a few of my friends. They whisper that I've found my Midwestern dream guy.
7:30 p.m., Italian restaurant: He tells me how much he likes my friends, but our conversation feels more formal.
9 p.m., my couch: We kiss. Then he pulls back and says, "I wanted to let you know I just don't feel a spark. But I think you're a really great person, and I have a lot of fun hanging out with you. I'd like it if you still came out with me tonight." What?!
9:01 p.m.: I surprise myself by saying OK. He doesn't get to ruin my Friday night.
10 p.m., party at his friend's apartment: After an awkward first hour, I have a great time and meet some cool people.
11:45 p.m.: He takes my hand and says, "Want to get out of here?" Talk about mixed messages. I tell him there's no way I'm going home with him; he slinks away. I glow in triumph — the night is mine!