Quick – Stop Me if I Speed Date
Putting the brakes on Speed Dating
My best friend, Char, took me to a speed-dating event at a Unitarian church. The irony was not lost on me. Things moved way too fast. We arrived promptly at 6 p.m.
The happy hour lasted a mere 15 minutes. That should have been my first clue. Two very identical blonde facilitators, Leah and Lisa, or Frick and Frack, in little black cocktail dresses and too much lip-gloss, were very upbeat, well rehearsed, and acted like cruise directors.
The rules were so reminiscent of Catholic school. I almost bailed: boys on one side, girls on the other. Every day the nuns in Catholic grammar school gave the same instructions. I blame it on the boss in Roma. But, that’s another story of biblical proportions.
After the divide and conquer directives, the two cruise directors did a stand up-pep talk-sales pitch all rolled into one. They quipped about what happened at the SpeedDating event the night before and their utterly amazing romance success rate. Right, sure.
Blonde A. rattled off staggering statistics about couples meeting in Speed Dating. Her mantra seemed to be “do the math”.
So I did. Furtively looking around the room, I noticed everybody was doing the same. I could do the math- I counted: there were 24 men and 30 women.
What are the odds?
On the boys side of the room, there about ten guys around 40-something and the other half of the guys looked like they lived in the neighborhood of 50-something.
Blonde B. pulled out an over-sized foam core board with stick figures. She summarized the chart, a la Vanna White, noting the more single people you meet, the more you will date and the quicker you will live happily ever after. Deftly she moved the stick figures to and fro, very much resembling a shell game.
Already defeated: 30 girls and 24 boys ‘odds’
Naturally, I had already started analyzing the competition. We were certainly a cross-section of society. However, there was a clear line of demarcation. There were women in the uniform little-black-dress, and all others in tight slacks, very high heels with plunging V-neck blouses. Had all of dating fashion been reduced to a mere two outfits? Once again, I felt under-whelmed and under ready.
Next, with even more feigned enthusiasm, Frick and Frack launched into “the rules.”
Our speed dating guidelines were a cleverly disguised way to explain we would be playing musical chairs with cocktails. After being seated, we would endure, or enjoy, six-minute interludes with each partner. Women remained seated and men changed chairs. We were instructed to be polite and honest. It sure sounded like Catholic school: say two Hail Mary’s and call me in the morning.
to be cont’d: Tomorrow:Speed Dating: the Baptism by Fire ~ Pt 2