My doc was still ordering abstinence when I went out with a few mismatches.

Then I met a musician, a totally sexy and sultry redhead who was a bit ambivalent about the whole online dating thing. In fact, she was ambivalent about the dating period because of a somewhat recent breakup and she faded in and out of correspondence. Then one day she came back with a vengeance and took me up on my offer to get together.

We met at a kitschy East Village eatery where I think a lot of first date type meetings take place. She was a total hottie in person, quite the conversationalist, funny, self-deprecating and I could tell she liked me. A lot. Neither of us wanted the date to end. I suggested we grab coffee at a funky place nearby and hang out a bit longer.

We got our lattes to go and walked across to Tompkin’s Square Park where we ended up talking for hours on a park bench. Finally, at dusk, one or the other of us said we should get back to whatever it was that we needed to do. We walked to the subway station—she was heading uptown and I to Brooklyn.

Then there was that extremely awkward moment of how to end the date: Hug, kiss—or both? I hugged her and she kissed me and told me I have beautiful eyes and we should definitely get together again. I blushed and said call me because while I had given her my number a few times, she had never given me hers in return.

When I exited the subway in Flatbush half an hour later, I had an enthusiastic message on my cell phone from my date saying we should definitely get together again—and soon.