Speed dating: I’m no stranger to these nights, don’t mind a bit of socialising, banter, wine, and hey we’re all here for the same thing: to meet someone. I still can’t bring myself to online date. All that lurking through photos and personal stuff – that’s what Facebook’s for. But speed dating and instant interaction – yes please. Thirty seconds into meeting someone I’m pretty sure as to whether I want to share my Calippo with them or throw one at them.
Some things to note for speed dating: girls if you dress well – you’ll do well. And drink, goodness gracious me drink. I couldn’t do this sober if you paid me. But not rolling round on the floor drunk – you’ll be so confused repeating yourself to 16+ men by the end of the night, you won’t know if the one with the bad shoes put a rohy in your drink or you’ve started repeating things like the crazy cat lady you always thought you’d be.
Let’s start with some of the questions I’ve been asked or things said to me. “Have you got kids?” Standard. “Do you use torrents?” Cute, geeky! “Are you a ring-in?” Err what? “You know a girl who’s been paid to be here, because you’re attractive and make the company look good”. I laughed a lot and assured him I wasn’t – but thanks for the compliment. He then asked why I wasn’t writing anything down (their names etc) to which I grinned and replied “Oh I’ve got a reallllllly good memory”. He looked confused as I felt. I was still staring down at my silver dress thinking ‘Escort’?! it’s Calvin Klein!’
Next up a mouse (maybe a rat) ran across the floor of the venue. I wasn’t sure if this was a staged prop so men could leap up to prove their manliness. Though English boys? Ha! Yeah right. Anyway nope, turns out the pubs in London just really are that grotty.
And the themes at some of these nights. Gah. I attended a ‘Lock and Key’ party in London, where the girls are given a lock to put around their neck, and the guys a key. So you have nervous men approaching liquored up women asking “May I insert my key… in your lock?” Oh the hilarity. After my lock fit a cheery little Indian man’s key he asked how I felt about living in India. Whoa slow down there little locksmith, just because the key fits, doesn’t mean we’re getting married.
My guy friends say the girls they meet at speed dating are always way hotter than any girl they’d approach when out trying to pick up. Well that’s great for them isn’t it. Meanwhile the girls are stuck with Mr.White-Dinner-Suit who wants to settle down now. As in NOW, do you hear me? Church or beach wedding? I’ve got the printers for invites on speed dial. Or Mr Wandering-Wanker with his copy of Lonely Planet banging on about his trip to Tanzania working with endangered Orangutans. You couldn’t make this stuff up if you tried.
I’ll stop right now complaining about the men at speed dating as I met my best guy friend at one of these events and not a Calippo thrown to date. So get on that horse, the speed dating horse of course and you might the man of your dreams. Or Mr Ed.