A year ago, I began this column as a way to get myself out there — a slap in my non-dating face. And since jumping headfirst into the dating pool, I’m feeling optimistic about my decision.

That’s not to say that there haven’t been some ups and downs along the road. Hell, if you read this at all, you’re completely clued in on the fact that the downs have far outweighed the ups. But regardless of my frustration, no matter my discontent, I’ve learned quite a bit during my dating bouts.

And as I begin a new year on dating duty, it’s time to reflect on the hits and misses that made up 2012. Sit back and enjoy the humiliation, won’t you?

If you listen closely, you can actually hear the cries of sexual frustration. They sound like microwave dinners and rosé.

I slowly but surely entered the world of online dating; debating which of the Internet meat markets had the least-murdery candidates to offer.

I realized that online dating has made men lazy, affirming Cher Horowitz’s notion that we’re expected to swoon over little to no effort. I don’t think so. If you don’t have anything worth saying, don’t say it. If you don’t want to know more about me? Don’t ask. If your grammer isnt their, it wasnt meant too be.

I contemplated the risk analysis when it comes to dating friends of friends. Folding a guy right into your social network is helpful, but if it doesn’t work out, things get messy. I debated whether or not to booze on a first date was a good plan. One glass of wine too many and it’s diarrhea of the mouth before the dessert even arrives.

I met a guy who was head over heels almost instantly, only to drop off the face of the earth days later, as I was pricing tickets to his family reunion in Nantucket. NANTUCKET. My hopes of an Old Bay seasoned summer in boat shoes died before it even had a chance to blossom.

I contemplated a relationship in which the chase outweighed the payoff. In hindsight, this situation was more complicated than that, and its premature demise is a regret. But you know what they say — hindsight is for idiots.

I decided that it’s best not to get to know someone too well electronically before a face-to-face meetup. While there’s always room for a mismatch (a Rush Limbaugh devotee, for instance) there’s also a better chance that you won’t be left feeling like your in-the-flesh date doesn’t measure up to the digital version.

I wrote the post that I’d hope my mother never reads — the one about the dry spell that led me to pose the question if a single girl wants to get some, does it have to mean she’s a slut? We don’t all exist within the dichotomy of DTF vs. MRS.

I “shopped” for love (and printed my first-ever retraction) at Austin Monthly’s bachelor auction. There were loads of handsome men, but my cash flow prevented me from affording little more than a t-shirt as a souvenir.

I gave the boot to a suitor my friends hated. While the writing may be on the wall, sometimes it says all the right things. I was a single girl in rose-colored glasses. And I reflected on my penchant for not wanting to hurt feelings, leading to more awkwardness later. Not that interested in the first date? Don’t say yes to the second…

I chastised my own judgment of fast-moving relationships. Sure, things may be on the fast track, but how soon is too soon? It’s not for me to say.

At the end, I dealt with an interested party who could teach the master class in dragging his feet. Other factors most assuredly were at play, but that doesn’t change the fact that some guys need some encouragement to make a move.

And best of all, I got more hate comments than I’d ever dreamed possible. They say no press is bad press, but when an Internet troll tells you that you’re going to die alone, it cuts deep. For about a millisecond. The Pinot Noir helps ease the pain.

So there you have it. A play-by-play of my first at-bat in the dating game. Here’s looking to a new year of first dates, second dates, and in-betweens.