Speed dating: the Happy Meal of romance?
In her latest missive from the world of 21st century courtship, Northern Lass meets 21 three-minute men
Speed dating is something that has never really held much appeal in the past. Maybe it’s down to a preconception of it being the Happy Meal equivalent of dating, or a gimmicky, grown-up mix of musical chairs and snap.
But, as mentioned in my last article, internet dating wasn’t really having the desired outcome for my friend Dan. The frustration of being ignored after what seemed like another promising date had led us to take action and look at new ways of meeting people.
The Manchester based dating blogger Cubic Garden had mentioned to me that he had more success meeting suitable dates speed dating than he had internet dating. So we figured it was worth putting any preconceptions to one side and giving it a go.
There are a couple of regular speed dating nights on in Manchester, each running nights in different venues on different days of the week. We needed to find a night where we both fitted into the same age bracket, which happened to be Elite Speed Dating, which runs on Saturdays at the Circle club.
The word “Elite” initially put me off – as did it being housed in a venue that wouldn’t normally let me in on a Saturday night. Favouring trainers and dancing rather than tottering and pouting when it comes to a night out, I dress accordingly and would possibly look like I’d just rolled out of the back of a Transit van rather than a salon in comparison to the regular crowd. I feared we were in for a night made up of consecutive three-minute periods speaking to those who consider themselves to fit the definition of “Elite”, thus creating a two-hour back-to-back soul-sapping twatathon.
When I mentioned I was going to my friend Alison, she told me about a lesbian speed-dating night her ex-girlfriend had put on a few years back. One lady showed up enquiring that if she paid her tenner could she then “go and get off with all the girls?” The same woman opened up her first three-minute date with the question: “What do you think of cannibalism?” I suppose this could be quite an important question if the person you were sat opposite is a staunch vegetarian, let’s face it, in that respect you are never going to see eye to eye.
On the way to the club, Dan was also growing increasingly conscious of what to ask when it came to opening questions. It was beginning to dawn on him that this was a night of intensive small talk. “Dunno,” I helpfully advised. “Pay them a compliment, then hopefully they will start asking questions?” We hadn’t thought this through ... Dan doesn’t like small talk and I’m nosey so would probably seem a bit interrogate-y. But we had arrived and there was no point backing out.
Walking in, to our relief, there was a real mix of people, and to our relief you got a free glass of champagne to calm any nerves. We sat down and registered. My old married name was on the list due to its being connected to my PayPal account. Dan misunderstood the significance of this and in a minor panic – thinking I’d failed to inform him we were on a covert operation – gave the completely false name of … Smith.
The instructions were simple. All the women sat at a table, and the men moved from table to table every time a whistle was blown. You got a sheet to make notes about each person, and had to tick yes or no regarding seeing them again.
In the hours that followed we both had 21 dates.
The most striking thing about the whole process was the sheer amount of bilge you can cover with someone you have never met before – in three minutes. It was spectacular. Discussions ranged from the size of my calculator buttons with a maths teacher, one man’s Made in Chelsea addiction, the brief history of someone’s ex-girlfriend, and my being challenged by a pharmacist to try to buy three packs of paracetamol next time I was in Tesco.
One guy spent the entire date looking around the room and over my shoulder as if expecting something to happen that absolutely didn’t involve me. Trying to engage him in conversation by asking him a series of questions about himself wasn’t working, and I was just starting to consider shouting “OI MATE – OVER HERE!” while manically waving just inches in front of his face – but I was thankfully saved by the whistle. Apparently he was “looking for someone specific”. I wasn’t her; we both ticked no. Wow, just three minutes to reach that conclusion; speed dating is efficient!
Each date ended with quickly writing a note on the person you have just dated and ticking “yes” or “no”. One guy refused to leave his seat until I ticked yes in front of him, so I did… then quickly scribbled it out as soon as he’d moved on.
By date 21 I was fully dated out. Luckily that date was Dan so we compared notes on how it had gone then I went to the bathroom and he went to the bar.
From inside the cubicle I could hear two girls discussing Dan and how nice they thought he was. Resisting the urge to be the source of mad squealings from behind the toilet door – “Yes – date Dan … both of you … he’s ace!” – I casually walked out and then ran off to the bar to tell him. Apparently a kind of friendship paradox had just occurred, as he too had stood next to a couple of blokes who were discussing how they would like to “give me one”. Aaaaawww ... this was turning out to be dead romantic!
I wondered if some of the guy’s sheets may be made up of notes that simply said “wouldn’t get it”, “maybe if drunk” and “would definitely GET IT!”
A couple of days later we both received an email to say if we had any matches. I had one, which considering I only ticked yes for two people was pretty good going. Another 10 had expressed an interest in meeting again or indeed “giving me one”, and Elite gives you the option of finding out who they are if you want to know. Dan hadn’t got any matches, but again had only ticked two yeses; however he had another six girls who had expressed an interest in meeting.
I asked Dan if he intended to contact any of the six girls; he didn’t. Between the dates and the email, he’d managed to hotfoot it back to his family in Ireland, meet someone at a match.com party over there, and was now smitten.
Speed dating was an absolute blast. It was far more fun than expected, definitely wasn’t a twatathon and not one person judged me on my anti-cannibalistic lifestyle. I definitely recommend it to anyone that wants a fun change to internet dating.
I looked at the details of my match on the email. I knew I wasn’t going to call him. While all this had been going on, I’d been on a couple more dates with the man I’d met on a dating site a few weeks previously.
I’d been honest with him about everything from the start, the Facebook stalking of him before we met to ensure he wasn’t a mass murderer, the writing of this column, the speed dating with someone I had met dating, and he didn’t seem fazed by any of it.
We had entered into that relationship grey area. Though there had been no discussion of us being an item, it just didn’t feel right to be contacting another person. Oh God, it was time for that cringeworthy conversation that in my limited experience neither side really wants to initiate in case the answer isn’t one you want to hear. “So … just what is going on with us?”
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