DAY ONE

7 a.m. I’m an early bird, even on weekends, and a hungry one at that. My

friend Marie is visiting, so I make us both some coffee, then head to the gym

for a run before teaching a yoga class.

12 p.m. Marie’s like my big sister. We’re eating at a food hall, having some

grain bowls while gabbing about online dating. She seems like a pro at managing

it; meanwhile, I just signed up again. My heart is still healing from my last

big breakup in the fall. Usually, she’s inclined to say that I can do better —

but when I tell her about my date for tonight, she preliminarily approves.

6 p.m. After a nap, we both get ready for our respective pre-dinner meet-

ups. I don’t get super dolled up, but I look nice and feel a little nervous, in

a good way.

7:30 p.m. My date, Leo, asks to meet at the Ace hotel. He’s European. We

talk about family and also religion, which they say you’re not supposed to do

but we seem to be having an easy time with. He’s not that tall, and handsome in

a rugged way and more important, seems earnest. He says he feels slightly

responsible for being my first online date in a while. I tell him not to think

too much about that. He didn’t offer to buy me a drink, which I find odd, but I

brush it off and he takes my number.

9 p.m. Leo’s already texted that he had a nice time. I reply in agreement. I

rehash the night with Marie. Someone on a different online dating site messaged

her about going out dancing tonight. She decides not to go with him, but with

me. I hesitate but … why not?

11:30 p.m. I can’t believe I’m actually still out (but drinking sparkling

water), and enjoying myself at a dive bar, even though everyone looks the same:

young and fratty. When we’re finally ready to go, some dude and his friend ask

us to go to a jazz bar. We decline, tired and uninterested.

DAY TWO

9 a.m. Half-asleep, Marie says good-bye as she heads for the airport.

11:30 a.m. I go to church solo. I’m sensitive and tear up in here sometimes.

I turn to prayer, music, and movement whenever I feel broken, or full.

1 p.m. I head to my friend’s event about sobriety. Beyond Sober January, I’m

not drinking as much anymore, either. I marvel at how things change. I wonder a

lot of other things, like if I’ll always have a place in my heart for my ex, and

if that place is a soft spot or a black hole. Our breakup sent me down a spiral

of extreme depression. It felt unfair — I loved him so much.

10 p.m. I haven’t been sexually active since the breakup. My ex and I never

planned to fall in love — he wouldn’t have showed up in my online preferences.

We were together for a year and a half and broke up, because, according to him,

I should have more than what he could offer me. He didn’t want to get married

again or have another kid. I think he’s still feeling the aftereffects of his

divorce. It was a dramatic breakup.

DAY THREE

9 a.m. I wonder what the week will bring. I call my brother, back home in

another state, about getting my mom flowers together for her birthday. He lets

me know she threw one of my letters in the trash! I decide to wait on the flower

request; I need to call my mom later and see what’s going on. My mom and I have

had a bit of a rocky relationship at times — something I’m working on. I think

she was sad to acknowledge how hurt I was in my last romantic relationship.

10 a.m. I get physical therapy, mostly around my hip area. It’s like a

massage paid for by my health insurance. I carry my emotions in my hips, and I

am tight because of all the workouts I do. This circular motion may be the

closest I’ll get to physical intimacy this week. I haven’t kissed anyone since

October right after my breakup, when I went on a make-out spree.

7:30 p.m. On my way back from teaching yoga, I run into my handsome, smart,

but emotionally unavailable neighbor who told me to stop “light”-sexting him

last week (I was feeling ambitious and aggressive). He was one of the three I

made out with in my kissing streak. Since he acknowledges me first, I briefly

wave hello and try to avoid any further interaction.

8:30 p.m. Catching up on The Bachelor. Yes, I’m a sucker for this reality

series. I even tried out for a few years ago. Now, I’m almost over-the-hill for

casting.

10 p.m. In bed. I’m very sensual and sexual (I think my love language is

touch), but I won’t sleep around. I’m thinking about getting a dildo instead of

what I do have, a vibrator the shape of a giant lipstick. But will it be enough?

DAY FOUR

7 a.m. I wake up and go for a run on the treadmill for 20 minutes, just

enough to get me sweaty and zone out.

11 a.m. During work, I overhear a 35-year-old single gal talking about

freezing her eggs. I’ve looked into this already but have not taken the leap,

especially since it’s not covered by insurance. I want to be a mom one day, in

addition to faithful, frisky, fabulous partner.

1 p.m. I have waffles for lunch with a friend who I haven’t seen in a while.

She asks about my ex. I can read her concern on her face but I assure her all

is well. We also talk about next steps in my career.

8:30 p.m. It’s Girls’ Night Out with my fitness friends.

11 p.m. I go to bed exhausted, stomach full of vegan chocolate.

DAY FIVE

8 a.m. I feel like I’m hungover, even though I didn’t drink last night. My

bleary eyes peer at a photo message of my mom (who I’ve forgiven quietly in my

heart) posing with the flowers I did end up going in with my brother on.

There’s also a digital bouquet in-app message from someone I haven’t met yet. He

can do that but isn’t daring enough to ask me out on an actual, in-person date?

I head to the gym and half-heartedly hit a punching bag.

11:30 a.m. I have no expectations for tonight — I’m just glad that I booked

time with one of my girlfriends in advance. We’re going to a supposedly

carefully curated singles’ mixer.

7:30 p.m. I have sake to pregame. I’m pleasantly surprised the guy-to-girl

ratio may be tipped in our favor, and everyone here is relatively cool and

good-looking! I am friendly and bright for some reason, talking to a couple guys

and gals. No numbers are exchanged on my end or my friend’s, but I still had

fun.

One of the younger guys (he’s surprised I’m in my 30s) gives me his white rose

before I leave. In the modern world, am I supposed to make a move? I like being

chased, to a point. Or it should be like a tennis match, maybe. While

considering all this, I take an Uber Pool home.

DAY SIX

8 a.m. There’s not a lot of true traction on my app. Just a hello here and

there. I haven’t heard back from European Guy, but it’s fine. I’d like to think

when you know, you know. I’m sensing the seeds of online-dating fatigue already.

10:30 a.m. Work flies by. I like to think I’m pretty good at what I do.

6 p.m. Another friend is visiting. I didn’t realize she’s staying in my

ex’s old neighborhood … I’m concerned I’ll run into him and keep my head down

before we head to dinner in Brooklyn, where we eat plenty of cheese. On the way

back, she asks me if I have hope. I do — and not about any reconciliation. She

tells me how proud of me she is.

10 p.m. I think about how lucky I am to have great girlfriends and how easy

and casual it is to connect with them. I think this might mean that I don’t need

my future husband/baby daddy to be emotional, but to simply acknowledge I can be

sensitive on certain topics and appreciate that I am in tune with my feelings.

DAY SEVEN

6 a.m. Up early again. I am admittedly compulsive with my phone and check my

apps — including social and dating — in bed before I get up, make coffee, and

meditate. Call it reverse engineering.

9 a.m. Answering emails. One of my guy friends texts me a link to a TED Talk

about how to fix a broken heart. I am definitely turning a corner, and his

thoughtful gesture is sweet. Love is indeed a drug, and we must stop the vicious

cycle of delusion and not live in the past. Or in dreams.

12 p.m. Sweat for lunch. I sit in the steam room for almost half an hour. I

have cried a lot in the past few months, but right now the salt is leaving my

naked body in a deliciously detoxifying way. My heartbeat quickens. Afterward, I

take a cold shower.

4 p.m. I’m looking forward to a quiet time by myself this weekend … except

of course I schedule a few things and make last-minute plans with a co-worker

friend.

7 p.m. Feeling a little guilty saying so, but I’m relieved to break away

from my co-worker at happy hour (I’m just sipping water) so I can take myself

out — I grab some takeout, come home early, and catch up on more of The

Bachelor. I know I have to keep putting effort into putting myself out there, so

my friends and I are planning some trips this year, too. I charge my lipstick

vibrator and go to sleep, fantasizing about meeting someone on vacation.