Friday, March 28, 2014

"Just give me a number instead of a name," or Adventures in Speed Dating

I went speed dating last weekend.  Well, technically, it was speed "mingling," but considering I was forced to mingle with only men for eighty minutes, I'm going to call it speed dating.  Whenever I do something that's slightly out of my comfy zone, I have to take on a character--I am no longer regular Alex, I am "Speed Dating Alex."  Who is that, exactly?  Well, first of all, Speed Dating Alex is not named Alex at all, but "F060."  To facilitate the matching process, we were stripped of our identities and given code numbers.  I am told that F060 was a good number to have.

I will also say that Speed Dating Alex is quite the snappy dresser.  I wore my new glasses, a fun sweater, a Liz Lemon blazer, skinny jeans, and riding boots.  Sometimes I'm quite pleasantly surprised with my ability to put outfits together, even though this is something I can do only 50% of the time.*

The real question of the evening was this:  can Speed Dating Alex flirt?  Or at least be somewhat pleasant for sixty seconds?


It turned out to be okay!  There was supposed to be a minute with each guy, but because of some men's inability to actually move when the timer went off, sometimes it was much shorter.**  Let me tell you, though, all that talking nonstop in a room where 160 other people are talking nonstop is not easy.  It's actually quite exhausting, and I give myself points for being quite the trooper through it all.

Here are some of the highlights of the interesting interactions I had:
  • One guy from my ward spent most of the minute talking about how embarrassed he was that our outfits were  accidentally color- and pattern-coordinated.
  • Another guy told me, "you don't seem like you would have a hard time attracting men."  Neither does the praying mantis...it's a retention issue.
  • One guy who carried with him a distinct Vibe, upon hearing that I studied anatomy, told me, "maybe I can help you with your homework sometime."  Now, I don't know if he meant that in the creepiest possible way, but that's how I heard it.
I wanted to Purell my entire brain.
  • We didn't have tables in between us, like you would expect in speed dating; we were just sitting across from each other.  This one boy was getting quite friendly with my unprotected kneecaps (I was such a good sport during this thing, you guys).  I then learned he had just graduated high school, and not in the "I'm 30 and I just got my GED way," but in the "I was born in the mid-1990's" way.  I quickly retracted my kneecaps.
  • Getting hoarse and tired, I tried to reason with one of my permanently platonic friends that, since it was a universal truth that we would never date each other, we should just sit in comfortable silence.  He proceeded to make conversation for the full minute.  I wanted to smack him.
  • I knew about 75% of the men there, but of course I didn't get to talk to the one stranger I actually found to be quite cute until near the end when I was so exhausted that I didn't know who I was anymore.  He asked me where I was from, to which I replied, "I'm from here originally...no I'm not...that's not true at all."  To that bespectacled redhead from California getting a PhD in chemistry from Yale, I say, "if you're reading this, I promise I'm actually an intelligent human being when I'm not forcing myself to be acutely charming for over an hour, so look me up!"
In short, the activity was a lot of fun, and I give mad props to the committees that put it together.  I even found out yesterday that, despite the dearth of people who submitted the numbers of people they liked after the event, I "matched" with three people!  Granted, they're all guys I already know, and I'm pretty sure at least one of them was a courtesy match, but still!  





*The other 50% of the time I wear old jeans and whichever turtleneck is at the top of the stack in my dresser and cover it all with a purple winter coat that makes me look like the Grimace.
**I will say that the odds weren't always in my favor, in that I got stiffed for time with those I favored, but I got the full minute (if not more) with the "odds."

1 comment:

  1. too bad the "right one" didn't leave a lasting impression...

    ReplyDelete