IT'S an e-mail chain I've forwarded to more girlfriends than I can count, one that started with the simple question: "How did you meet Super Preppy - a guy that you finally like?"

Answer: You don't give up. You get excited about dating. You know how spectacular and gorgeous and brilliant you are.

"You need to get excited about the process," I wrote, "no matter how terrible or demoralizing or turning-into-a-lesbian-inspiring it is. When you're feeling especially bad, that's when you need to date even more."

OK, full disclosure: I didn't come up with this philosophy alone.

As I explained in the e-mail string, I learned this all from an interview I did with Rob Reiner, a clinical psychologist on the Upper East Side, who told me, "You know, so many women, they simply give up. They stop trying. But you have to remember:

It only takes one."

It was like a light went off in my head. I can do One.

Dating, instead of seeming like a terrible journey without end, began to seem like something with a finish line.

Very soon after getting this advice, I went on a date with a charming 30-something architect. Beforehand, I remembered what Dr. Reiner said and tried to empty myself of all cynicism. I even meditated beforehand, chanting silently: "This date is going to rule. I'm going to have a great time and remember, in the end, it only takes One." (Very patchouli of me, I know.)

Turns out - I didn't even need the mantra.

My date turned out to be Mr. Adorable. Tall, with a mop top of wavy brown hair, defined dimples and, here's the real cherry, intelligent eyes. He can be short, fat and bald. But if there's wit behind the eyes, the rest is gravy.

During second-round small talk, Mr. Adorable mentioned a favorite band: Rilo Kiley. I said my ex-husband once played a show with them, and oh, did I mention that I used to be married?

"I thought you looked familiar," he deadpanned. "Because I'm your ex-husband."

Sorry, he laughed, weird sense of humor. No, I said, getting very excited. Awesome sense of humor.

The date ended brilliantly, in a barrage of hand holding, flirtatious back rubbing and plans for next time. But then, like so many overflooded-with-options New York men, at one point he took a million days to e-mail me back.

Or 11. Eleven days to be precise.

But because I was following Dr. Reiner's advice, I was already busy dating up a storm. So I decided I would have fun with it.

My friend Mackenzie and I decided I would write Mr. Adorable an overtly cool note in 13 days (so very clever), and we would celebrate the event as if it were a national holiday. She even bought me flowers and a card that said, "Sweet! You did it! You're a Champ!"

It also only takes One - really great friend.

And still, I'm grateful to Mr. Adorable.

Because I know Dr. Reiner's advice was that it only takes One. But I like to think he also meant it only takes One good date (no matter how it ends) to remind us of why we bother searching at all.