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Remember the classic kids game Guess Who? That’s what speed dating is like.
Staring at a dozen or so funny looking faces, awkwardly asking the same questions over and over again.
Only this time it wasn’t about what the other person was wearing.
Instead, “Where are you from?” and “What do you do?”
But the first question I asked was to myself.
“What am I doing here?”
I’m officially a loser willing to do just about anything to let love find me. Or at least that’s what I told myself before running into a few fellow speed dating “virgins” in the bathroom.
I assume we shared the same apprehensions. The main one being the possibility of meeting a database building, basement dwelling recluse with people in his pipes.
Apprehensions and awkwardness aside I knew I had to do it. I had to jump.
So I headed for the hostess stand, grabbed a mint and passing up a much-needed glass of wine to get started on time, I headed upstairs with my newfound friends.
It was awkward from the start.
Check in with the organizer, sign the waiver and stick your “Hello, My Name Is” sticker over your heart.
The speed-dating hostess sped through her spiel leaving us with no suggested questions and basic rules of engagement.
All I knew was I had 6 minutes to meet the man of my dreams.
Taking notes while you’re talking was recommended so as to not forget your favorites. Then, “No Thanks” or “Let’s Talk” if you see potential for a future date.
Let the games begin!
Whew! We’re off to a good start. Kind, tall, blue-green eyes, yes. Late 40s-50s, kids 10 years younger than me, no.
It was a very long 6 minutes. “Have you ever dated anyone outside of your race?” I asked. He turned beet red, began to shake and he told me about his Asian undergrad fling.
Hello there hottie. Okay, maybe he was just cute, but this tall, blue-eyed, bald guy, had a little something to say. I felt myself relaxing into the conversation. The bell rang and I wanted to hear more.
Look up speed dating in the dictionary. You will see #5. One of two black guys in the group with an ungodly unibrow, unevenly cut fro, smudged eyeglasses, monk-like shirt buttoned at at the neck… affinity for TV marathons and ice-skating… I just… I just… I cannot.
#5, #6, #7
The half Spanish, half Italian cutie with two-tattoo sleeves made me laugh out loud when he called me a spicy chimichanga. Although he was a father to a toddler, I circled “Let’s Talk.”
Super cute, beautiful smile, Latino with a knack for adventures. He too was a Padre but I have to say it was pleasing to meet him.
Remember my apprehension? The recluse I might meet? The people I imagined in his pipes?
Here he was in all his glory. Creepy McCreeperson.
He told me this was his 4th speed dating event and that he had received zero responses after the last one. Hmmm…. I wonder why. Our conversation went a little something like….
#10: “Have you ever been camping?”
Me: “ You mean like in the woods? (sinking in my chair, slowly grabbing my purse)
“Sure, maybe once.”
#10: “Did you like it? When do you think you’ll go camping again?”
Me: “Nope. Never. Absolutely not.”