A friend of mine told me she was doing a speed dating event in Atlanta and let’s see… I’m newly single, not really feeling all lovey-dovey or sappy-romantic, and definitely not expecting very much from this. But, best case, I may meet a hottie and score a date or two. Worst case, it’s practice in meeting new people. (At the very least, it’s excellent writing material!!!) What’s that? The age group is 30 – 45? Perfect! I’m done with keg stands and beer pong. Frat boys need not apply!! Okay, why not. Sign me up.
It’s amazing how, as a woman, that nonchalant attitude flies right the fuck out the window at a certain point. Not a week before. Not the day before. It’s the day of when that take becomes oh holy fucking terror what am i going to wear why did I sign up for this!!?!?!? Not even joking. Then, mere hours before the event, there’s an email from event coordinator with last minute instructions including “dress attire recommended is business casual or dinner-date attire”. People. Work with me. That is the broadest description you could EVER give to a woman. EVER!!! Did I mention EVER?!?
Of course, I’m stuck vetoing outfit after outfit with the clock ticking down. I set aside the cute top/skinny jeans/boots combo, but the Ann Taylor sweater dress was too plain. I finally landed on a cute sweater/leggings/boots outfit that I’m comfortable wearing. In the end, I looked like this.
And my bed looked like this.
Whatever. Out the door I flew. Traffic cooperated and I arrived with enough time to meet up with my friend beforehand and watch the door. Checking out the bachelors/competition? Mmmmmmaybe. Shush.When we finally got started with the actual speed dating, we were given a folded scorecard with written instructions that began, “You will remain seated at all times.” EW, PAPER, THAT’S KIND OF RUDE. DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO. (What? I write. Word choice matters!) Luckily the speed dating process was less harsh. You’re allowed 5 minutes with each person. Women stay put. Men rotate to the next table when the bell rings. We got one break to stretch
convene in the bathroom to dish, and then it was back for the second wave of eligible bachelors.
But the juicy stuff? The bachelors? I really hate to disappoint y’all, but it was a total bust. The ones I remember were as follows:
The New Yorkers: both were recent transplants to Atlanta, with snarky and dry senses of humor. Both were well dressed and had good jobs, but the dealbreaker was when I told them I moved here from Jersey a year ago. Their reactions were identical in wanting me to join their hatefest towards Atlanta. Sorry, guys. I love it here. Metro-tendencies aside, neither were very handsome and both were shorter.
The Snoozers: It was like pulling teeth trying to get conversations out of these guys. It’s no fun to have to do all the work, especially when you have a brief five minute window!!! (That goes for sex too. Just saying.)
The Passports: Several men had just moved to the USA “a few weeks ago”. Whoa. And you’re jumping into speed dating? Hmmmm.
The Recent Divorcees: I thought one guy was going to break down at the table, he was so obviously still hurting from the process. He missed his two sons, who he can now only see once every other weekend. I felt for him. I didn’t want to sleep with him. The other divorcee was actually quite handsome. He had kind, blue eyes and salt and pepper hair and from what I could tell a pretty good physique. The conversation started slowly and he admitted he was nervous. I led him to safe topics like work, and we turned out to be in the same field. I decided to be playful and ask him how tall he was. He said 6’2, why? I explained that I’m a tall woman, to which he made me stand up! Yep, even in my boots I was still shorter than him. Yay! Promising! That broke the ice a little, so I asked him about previous marriages/kids. Yes, he was divorced for 2 years, and has four kids ranging from 18 to 8.
There is so much to say about that, but I… just…. can’t. That’s too much. Especially right after Jason/LittleJ.
But even if I could have gotten over the whole divorced-with-four-kids thing, there were zero sparks. Nada. None. I selected ‘no’ for all of them.
As I was leaving, the event host pulled me aside and encouraged me to try the younger age group in a few weeks. He was vehement that I’d fit in better there than with this age group.
I don’t know how I feel about that… my beer pong skills are pretty rusty.
What do you all think? Try again?