In one weekend (Yes, You read that right) I went on 30 dates

In One Weekend (Yes, You Read That Right!) I went on 30 dates... How can that be?! "My friend asked after I told her that this weekend I couldn't be happy with her because in three days I went on 30 dates. I'm going to admit, it felt like an impossible feat. But what do you know? As I approach 32, with clear eyes and a full heart, single and ready to date—I can't lose! Even if that means with 30 L.A. going out. Men who love their Teslas more than what I like to do for fun.

So, I redownloaded all my dating apps and checked them compulsively as it was my job to offer my number—even when no one asked. I nixed up the little talk and upgraded my talk from "Hey, what's up? "What are you doing on Saturday at 8:30 a.m.? " Aggressive? Maybe. Would that be worth it? Totally. How long are you talking to matches before the digits are snagged? I even made a google doc with pictures and phone numbers of all my upcoming dates to share with my friends (if I got killed or something)—and, all right, to keep me on track so I didn't mix the boys together. Here's a breakdown of my 30 dates, and FWIW, to protect me and these very fragile male egos, names have changed.

Day One

Date 1: Friday, AM 12:01—Bob* I didn't plan to be a booty call on my first date, but Bob was in town. Since January, he and I have been Whatsapping (he lives in London) and had a decent first date in March, so we were celebrating our six-month anniversary technically.

Date 2: Friday 8:30 a.m.—Mason* This was my first breakfast and I would recommend 10/10. There was no ordered booze (alcohol would make it brunch, and brunch would never start before midday), but we had three rounds of coffee and delicious egg dishes. More than most people in Los Angeles do, Mason had his life together, and I'd totally grab breakfast with him again—maybe this time around with a mimosa buzz.

Date 3: Friday 2:30 p.m.—Tim* In person, Tim looked more haggard than suggested by his shirtless headshots of Hinge. He looked up and down at me when we hugged like I wasn't "effortlessly sexy" that he told me on the app. I saw the eyes of a man who looked much older than 29 when he lowered his black Wayfarers. After an hour I excused myself, even though I had no other date until 5:30 p.m. I might not be effortlessly sexy by his standards in real life, but mine made Tim the worst effortlessly.

Date 4:5:30 p.m. Friday—Ian* Ian called me after we matched a phone call pre-date—cute! But over HH drinks, he told me: "I really make a great impression of a black guy, sucking how uptight everyone is these days! "And it was... not sweet at all. After our first round, I peaced out but then watched him go back to the bar—which, to my horror, was where I was supposed to meet Date Six in an hour... shit.

Date 5: Friday 6:30 p.m.—Max* I didn't realize when I matched Max that we went seven years ago on a date. Oops! I guess when you swipe aggressively that's bound to happen. We bonded with Pad Thai's beer and two separate orders (he admitted he wasn't good at sharing, I wonder what else that translates to...) and I couldn't remember why I stopped seeing him seven years ago—maybe I need to find out another date.

Date 6: Friday 7:45 PM—Dan* Dan was 10 minutes early and I was 15 minutes late, so when I arrived he finished his first old fashioned (sorry, Dan!). I was impressed to learn that Christian Bale (Patrick Bateman *is* my type) was stand-in and I ordered a second drink as he ordered his third drink. Then he pulled out a keychain with a breathalyzer that was a bit worrying, but not as concerned as he agreed to split the tab when I had one and a half rounds, and he, three and a half.

Date 7: Friday 9:00 p.m.—Issac* As we sat on lounge chairs in an iconic hotel in Hollywood, Issac made my astrological chart on his phone. I am a Gemini rising, it turns out? He asked me later what my book was about, and I explained that my exes in my twenties were talking about it. His face dropped as he told me, "I've never been able to date a girl who's talking about her exes," and I answered, "Well then, we can't date because that's literally all I do. It's been so nice to meet you."

Date 8: Friday 10:00 p.m.—Evan* Evan canceled thirty minutes prior to the meeting. Thank you, next, thank you.

Date 9: Friday 11 p.m.—Greg* Greg was sweet and understanding, but from this date, it's all I remember. I was fading, and the snack I was going to eat when I got home mentally planned. Crackers and FTW hummus!

Day Two

Date 10: Saturday, AM 9—Bryan* Bryan bought me an iced oat latte while we were walking, blinded by the hot morning sun. "What would you do in the wine industry? "I asked, not expecting Bryan to start a 40-minute TED Talk about his Los Angeles journey. Then he joked that on our second date I could tell him my story—TBD on that one, bud.

Date 11: Saturday, 10 AM—Bill* Bill followed me on Instagram after finding me on a dating app that's, well, weird... but I finally agreed to go out with him once I decided to do that. In the third person, he referred to himself, which he explained was because he was left (?!). Nice man... Nice man...

Date 12: Saturday 12 p.m.—Allen* Allen and I went a couple of years ago on two dates. He was at the time a personal trainer and a little meathead, so I was v happy to see him more mature, more refined, and more self-conscious. We caught up where life had taken us over chopped salads and iced teas. I was impressed to learn that Allen had entered some science program (sorry I can't be more specific, I space out when people are talking about math or science), and he asked me on the second date. I'm looking forward to it as long as after reading this article he doesn't cancel (Allen, you've been a cute meathead for what it's worth, all right?)

Date 16: Saturday 4:30 p.m.—Chad* I was ten minutes late to meet Chad in a chocolate boutique, but he didn't mind. We sampled sweets, bought some, and took them to a nearby dog park. We were telling each other our Hollywood stories as pups frolicked on the green. Then, I learned that the divorce of Chad is not finalized, making me hesitant to accept his offer this week for a second dinner date.

Date 17: 5:30 p.m. Saturday — Oscar* I was happily canceled by Oscar. Either way, I started crashing and needed some chilling time before my date of 8 PM. Not angry with it.

Date 18: Saturday, 8:00 p.m.—Ken* I was really excited about meeting Ken, who was from my hometown next door. I was relieved to discover that our conversation flowed in person as effortlessly as it did on the app as I sipped my white wine. I told him about this challenge when he asked me for a second date over text the following Monday. He said he was disappointed and he wanted me not to include him in the article... So obvi, that's part of the article. Ken, if you're reading this, you've got to calm down.

Date 19: Saturday 10 PM—Aaron*

Day Three

Date 20: Sunday 8 AM—Cam* Cam and I went to the same high school and when I was a senior he was a freshman. Age wasn't supposed to be a big deal, but on our hour-long brisk morning hike, we felt decades apart. For starters, before our date, he gave me homework. He asked me to list my favorite movies including favorite comedy, guilty pleasure, animation, adaptation to books, top ten movies, and foreign movies. I know, just typing that I'm exhausted. I didn't do my homework, but it would be Gone Girl if I named this date after a movie.

Date 21: Sunday 9:30 AM—Brian Brian is a friend who was fascinated by this experiment and offered to take me to the farmer's market for twenty-one dates to sample mulberries and melons. His most important contribution? He introduced me to Olive Oil Guy, who just literally had sex (and olive oil) reeked. Olive Oil Guy said that he would go with me on a date, but I doubted that because I saw that he had 143 unanswered texts on his phone.

Date 22: Sunday, 11 AM—Will* Will is a friend of Instagram I've never met who went to college with me. He's a neighbor as well, so he was excited to meet me at a spot equidistant from our apartments for a brunch. We met with my last date on Friday at the same British gastropub and on Saturday at mimosa. Best of the date? I was unrecognized by my servant.

Date 23:12:30 p.m. Sunday—Andrew* Cancelation. Phew. After that hike, I finally had time to shower.

Date 24: Sunday 1:30 p.m.—Dave* Dave was a nine-language cancer survivor. He was smart, cute, and seemed to be in me...? On Monday, he wrote to me asking if we could hang out again, and when I told him about 30 dates, he said it's "possibly a great story if things go well." I'm giving a first date hell, but from there it's all downhill. Would you like me luck!

Date 25: Sunday at 4:30 p.m.—Mike* I was really looking forward to meeting Mike because we had the strongest game of all my dates. But he appeared to be more melancholy and low-energy in person than suggested by his game of texting. Did he just go this weekend on 25 dates as well? Unclear.

Date 26: Sunday 5:30 p.m.—Johnny* First drink round, and I wasn't expecting Johnny to be the same as I was. Maybe it was because no more than a tight hug and low expectations ended with the other 24 dates. But there was something incredibly comfortable and sexy about him that took me on to

Date 27... Date 27: Sunday 6:30 p.m.—Johnny* In our second round of drinks, I learned that there's something wrong with Johnny: he hates The Simpsons' golden years, but he loves Futurama and Family Guy— which, to me, is like somebody who loves pizza, but hates Italy. I was too distracted to get upset about this by my Peroni buzz and Johnny's biceps, though...

Date 28: Sunday 7:30 p.m.—Johnny* I was so comfortable with Johnny that I was telling him about the experiment. Not only was he surprisingly receptive, but he also wanted to keep hanging out as well. So, with Olive Oil Guy and the Serotonin Sweetie, I canceled my dates. Boys, till next week!

Date 29: 8:30 p.m. Sunday—Johnny* We went back to my place... He gave me a head start so I had time to clean the makeup and clothes that were everywhere (you think it's hard to get ready for a date, try to get ready for 30!). We gave me a toast for Prosecco and my 26 dates.

Date 30: Sunday 10:00 p.m.—Johnny* We were still hanging out and playing our favorite songs for each other three hours later. Overall, I'd never admitted outside of this article that I had those embarrassing butterfly stuff in my stomach. I hope I'll see Johnny again, but he'll probably never want to see me again once he reads this. Which might dodge a bullet because what sociopath is unable to appreciate The Simpsons' golden years?! This experiment was exhausting and draining, and yes, "What do you enjoy doing for fun? "There's a personal trigger now. But this social experiment—rather, my mission of finding true love—was thrilling and worth every iced oat latte, a happy hour of white wine, and Uber of Pride. Does the next Bachelorette make me? Am I now known? Should I begin selling vitamins for gummy hair on IG? Call me, Chris Harrison! I'm going to get extensions of hair, I promise!