In this edition of the post-game show, I thought I'd give you a little more insight into the actual speed dating process. As I told you before, there were 15 gals and 14 guys. The night was broken up into three sets of five five-minute dates, with one girl unattended in each rotation. When I got to the venue at the start of the night, I signed in, picked up my name tag and went to the bar to claim my complimentary drink. I made quick friends with the gals at the bar sitting next to me, and about 20 minutes later the ladies were all escorted upstairs to take our seats on an array of couches. After we were settled, the guys came up and rotated around the room in a clockwise direction until every guy had spent five minutes with every girl.
My first date of the night was one of the many eastern European types in the crowd, so the natural awkwardness of the first date was exacerbated inordinately by the fact that he didn't speak super great English, was clearly nervous and not terribly inquisitive. But I still thought he was a nice guy who was polite, interesting and good looking. He didn't say anything that offended my sensibilities, like the guy who asked me what part of Tennessee he should visit if he ever goes. Naturally, I said Memphis, and began listing off its many charming qualities. When I said we had the world's best barbecue, he perked up a little. "Really?" he said. "Yeah," I said. "Known the world over, absolutely incomparable." And then he said, "Like, hamburgers and stuff?" They frown on verbal assault at speed dating events, so I calmly explained to him that barbecue comes from a pig, only a pig and nothing but a pig. Ever. End of story.
A few dates later I asked a guy why he'd come to speed dating. He told me, "to find the one." I may have snorted out loud.
Then there was the guy who owned a yacht company who talked flagrantly about money and also looked flagrantly at my chest. I'll forgive him the first few glances, because I realized that he was trying to read my name tag, which I was covering up with my crossed arms. But then, the following exchange took place:
Him: I'm not trying to be rude, but I definitely like what I see.
Me: Nervous laughter.
Him: When a guy looks down like that, I mean I'm not going to be that guy who's rude and stares at your chest while I'm talking to you (he did) but when a guy looks, it's a compliment. We definitely are attracted to that.
Me: I know. I've had these for a while now.
And finally, the night would not have been complete without one of my world-famous out-of-body-experiences. In this episode of My Dumb Mouth, we watch as Elizabeth tells the cute guy from Colombia that she knows all about the country of Colombia because she once represented the nation in Model United Nations. People, I even went so far as to tell him how annoyed I was that the conference had misspelled the name of the country on our voting placards. As I floated outside myself, watching all of this dumb shit come flying out of my mouth, I thought, really? Really? You've got five whole minutes and THIS is what you've chosen to talk about. Your high school Model UN team. Really? Really?
Needless to say, if I ever decide to speed date again I will definitely put some of the things I learned last night into practice. I learned quickly that you have to get your vitals out of the way as fast as you can if you want to be able to have any sort of meaningful conversation and walk away actually knowing something about the guy. I would also have some better, more direct questions prepared and might even consider making a list to follow pretty strictly with each date. I only know the political affiliations of two guys I met last night; Alejandro was relieved to discover I was a democrat (after he'd already bought me a drink, brave boy) and Snotty Snotty Doctor Boy revealed his evil ways to me on one of our breaks, when he asked me how "Tennessee" felt about Obama and then went on some incoherent conservative rant. At that point I think I was so transfixed by the gleam of his snot bubble that I couldn't really concentrate on what he was saying, sort of like when someone has one of those big heinous relief-map type moles jutting out of their face that you look at for so long you start to hallucinate that the mole has a mouth and might actually try to eat you.
So there you have it, folks. And sadly, as of 4:36 p.m. there is still no e-mail in my inbox from our good friends at New York Minute Dates with the names of all my potential suitors. Rest assured that as soon as I receive them, you will be the first to know.
cheers,
elizabeth
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