You go on a first date Tuesday night, and you think it went pretty well. In fact, you're sure it went pretty well. I mean, why else would your prospective new lover constantly let his or her knee graze yours all night or share your drink as if you'd known each other for more than, oh, 45 minutes? You go home content, and (dare I say it?) happy. Wednesday morning comes and goes, and by Wednesday at around 3 p.m., you think the potential new relationship is doomed. It's been 17.26 hours, and not even a measly text to say what a nice time he or she had??