Just when I thought I was out

Readers have asked whether I’ll ever tire of speed dating. I think I can honestly say that no, the occasional series of 4-minute encounters with all the weirdness of humanity will never get old. But I was getting bored with my usual speed dating company–the same format, the same bars, the same guys. Then they sent me a half-price coupon, so I had to give it one last try.

The event was officially a FAIL. Only 6 guys showed, and 5 of them I had already dated. If that isn’t evidence that it’s time to move on, what is? But because the date was such a dud, they gave me a freebie. I couldn’t let that go to waste. In search of a different crop, I decided to try a Jewish speed date.

It was, as you might predict, loaded with enough doctors and lawyers to please any Jewish grandmother. The only thing missing was the organizer. But we didn’t lead ourselves out of Egypt for nothing. Under the direction of one particularly bossy girl and using our collective expertise (no, I didn’t blow my cover as a semi-professional speed dater), we put together our own event. It went pretty well, although the anonymity of matching on the internet was lost. And facing rejection where you thought there was a connection is a little harder in person. After suffering a couple of those, I decided maybe I really was ready to take a break from speed dating.

But then the company emailed me to apologize for the organizer’s no-show and offered some compensation for the hassle in the form of… two more free events. You know where I’ll be next week.

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