A friend recently made a comment about dating. She said we can either get ourselves out there, or just sit in barn bitching. Not wanting to go down in history as a barn bitcher, I figured this was a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone: get the hell out of that barn, and try something new. So I recruited two of my lovely lady friends to join me for an evening of speed dating.
Here's how it works: Each of the women are stationed at a designated spot for the duration of the evening, and the men have to rotate stations every seven minutes. Everyone has a sheet of paper for taking notes to jog the memory in case they can't seem to keep the plethora of potentials straight -- for instance, "Jerry - bushy brows and a chihuahua, may be a serial killer."
There are a few things about speed dating that you know going in. First, you paid $30 to do it, so as you anxiously scout the incoming men, you can't help but wonder if you would have been wiser to spend that cash on a few drinks at your favorite dive -- where you're expectations already are low and the drinks are a hell of a lot cheaper. Second, you know (we all know) whether or not we're attracted to someone in the first 30 seconds. Of course, this isn't to say that attraction can't develop over time. But the reality here is that if you REALLY are not attracted to someone, and you know for certain, say, at first glance, seven minutes can seem like an eternity.
While my friends scanned the room to prepare themselves for the 35 minutes ahead, I opted to look away, sip my wine, and wonder (mostly to keep from getting that look on my face). But as they mumbled commentary like "Oh boy" and "I hope he's not here for this," I settled in for exactly what I had expected.
And so, with the ringing of the bell and all the ladies awkwardly positioned at their posts, some just a few feet apart, the ritual began.
With the stations so close together, and within earshot of each other, I was continually reminded of a somewhat depressing reality of the quest for love: it's a numbers game. Basically, you keep throwing the same schpeel against the wall (the wall being new potentials) until something sticks. To some, your schpeel may be entertaining. To others, it may be arrogant. Some people may find it endearing, while others may wonder who in the hell let you into the speed dating pool.
Quite frankly, I believe the demands of speed dating to be even more harsh than those endured in the greater wonderland that is conventional dating. With seven minutes to hook someone, you need to be really attractive or have a really great personality. Or both. Unfortunately, if you're unattractive or come across as possibly suffering from aspergers, you probably will not enjoy great results in this arena. If you're both, you'll send my friend right up to the event organizer to complain.
Nothing thrown against my wall stuck. But something did stick to one of my friends, which just goes to show that it's all one giant crapshoot.
So ... is speed dating my passion?
Nah. I didn't need to spend $30 and seven minutes with aspergers to know that he wasn't for me. However, those seven minutes were completely bizarre -- something hidden camera shows are made of -- and really oddball moments like that bring me great joy (and lots of fun stories). So I guess that counts as a half win.
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