Remember when I said I was scheduled? Well, here's the deal. I hate to stay out late on a weeknight — even when the date is going well. Why? Because I value my beauty rest and my job requires a whole lot of brainpower (as in, hangovers don't fly). Sure, I used to stay out well past sunrise in my early 20s, but I'm an adult now, and I've got shit to do. That said, in an effort to conquer by biggest dating fears, I vowed to let loose and have a little fun again on my next date — pending I didn't have a huge project due the morning after. Now by this, I don't mean I wanted to be Uber-ing home at 4 a.m., but I reminded myself that I wouldn't be losing any glass slippers at midnight. When I made a plan with a guy midweek, I was fully ready to stay out later than usual, assuming we hit it off. I ran home after work, refreshed my eye makeup, and slowly drank an espresso while I added a few more waves to my hair. I felt energised and ready to go wherever the night took me. We met at a chic speakeasy, and a few drinks in, I suggested we bar hop — which we did, for another four hours. My drink-to-water ratio was on point — it only took me 10 years to get that down — so I wasn't, well, freaking out about a potential hangover. I made it home just a few hours before I'd usually be waking up (I'm an early riser), slept for a few hours, and started my day. Talk about living my best life.