Speed dating is an enthralling idea. Indeed, many of the friends I told about my endeavour seemed very interested and wished to come along. A group of strangers, all gathered together in a room with a (supposedly) common goal: to find a partner. Nervously waiting for the five minutes they have to spend in each other’s company, in which they must impress with appearance and conversation. It is an intimidating idea – one that made many of my friends exclaim “Wow! You’re brave!” Speed dating does however, have the connotation of being a forum for desperate and dateless people, a generalisation I was hoping to either confirm or dispute.
After arriving at the venue, my friend John and I became quite unnerved by the amount of people there seemed to be waiting to participate. The website said to expect from around twelve to fifteen dates, when in actual fact, the final numbers were nineteen girls and eighteen guys. Each with a four-and-a-half-minute date. It was like the marathon that is Parent-Teacher Interviews all over again! Needless to say, by the end of the night, John and I were both exhausted and I was even struggling to construct a sentence.[1]
I was determined to be cynical about the people I was going to meet, and I certainly began that way. However, I unknowingly found myself sucked into the whole experience. I found myself writing down little notes to try and remind me who was who. I found myself genuinely considering which man I would date, and which I would like to be friends with.
As a teacher, I likened the entire event to be a massive assessment task for all of us. Not only were we assessing, but also being assessed. If there was a rubric on Speed Dating, it would look like the following:
| Criteria | VH | H | M | L | VL |
| 1. Appearance (clothes, face, accent, etc) | |||||
| 2.Genuine, open, and honest body language and personality | |||||
| 3. Friendly and unreserved | |||||
| 4. Interesting conversation and personality |
On average, about half the men I dated were accountants. Some men wore suits, and I couldn’t decide if this was because they had just come from a ‘very important job’ or if they believed that by wearing a suit, they were showing:
- how much they cared about their appearance, and are therefore, very clean; or
- how much money they earned; or
- how good they looked in a suit.
Any of which must be attractive to the opposite sex, right? For me, the suits were a turn off as they suggested hegemonic masculine power. Suit = money = big phallus. Whatever.
Following this, I realised that speed dating made me assess exactly how I wanted to be viewed by others, especially those who I might date. Clearly, in valuing intelligent, well-read and generally fun people, I realised that is exactly how I wish to be viewed too.
One man actually instructed me to tell all the other guys that I did Latin Dancing, because, as he explained “It’s so hot!”, to which I replied (next to his name on my comment card), “Don’t tell me what to do, loser-face”. His aim, obviously, in contrast to mine, was to appear ‘hot’.
Another man actually told me he enjoyed being single. His friends had brought him along. I asked him, with a surprised laugh, whether this was his disclaimer at the beginning of all his dates. He replied by saying, in quite a matter-of-fact tone, that he had not told all his dates. “Only you.” He said. His tone suggested he wasn’t trying to be an arsehole, so I happily conceded that he was dim-witted, opened my card and ticked ‘No’ in front of him. His aim was to appear cool, calm, and confident.
One man, who appeared very nervous and shy, had seemingly rehearsed his date, and launched into it as soon as he sat down in front of me.
Man: “HiI’m______andI’ve neverdone thisbeforebutmynightisgoingreallywell, I’mreallyenjoyingit.Areyouhavingfun?Whatdo youdoforaliving?”
Me: +Processing…+ “Uhhhhhh…Um, I’m a teacher.”
His aim was to appear confident. He failed.
One of the last men I dated was one of the most interesting. He asked me what I did for a living and I replied with “I’m a secondary teacher.” He grinned and said something that astonished me: “Oh, you look like a teacher! You sound like a teacher too!” And how exactly does one look and sound like a teacher? “You know, you speak properly and everything.” Speak properly? How the hell was I speaking properly? I was speaking normally… I thought. After that comment I tried to use as many complex, metaphoric words as I could just to confuse him. His aim was to appear jovial and fun, and as someone who doesn’t think before they speak. Later on I was annoyed I didn’t say I was a ‘learning facilitator’, just so I could have messed with his head even more.
In the end, ten people picked me as a possible match. I only matched six, including John. In the end, I realised that the only time I’d actually laughed the whole night was when John and I were seeking out something to eat afterwards. Truthfully, I found that while I couldn’t say that the people who go speed dating are generally not desperate, the men aren’t exactly interesting either. I met a couple of people I would like to catch up with as friends again, but to be honest, I struggled imagining myself dating any of them again. For some, that four-and-a-half minutes was more than long enough, but I’m sure some of them felt exactly the same about me!
[1] The last guy I dated, Ash, came over and sat down at my table. I put out my hand, took a deep breath to prepare myself for the last date, silently thought “Thank god this is nearly over!”, and introduced myself as “Ash” as I looked at his name-tag. Obviously I corrected myself but nothing says ‘dumb’ like not knowing who you are.
withered violets 