I’m afraid Speed Dating Girl may have to retract a statement for the first time ever. No, I’m not regretting having publicized my booty text conversations or judging guys based on their shirts. But I may have been premature in complaining about the glass ceiling of professional speed dating last week.
So, I was at my desk, innocently working (on my job even, not the blog) when I got an email promoting a “last-minute speed dating opportunity for women.” I emailed back and asked if there was a discount, the organizer said no, so I declined. Then I got this email: “keep it hush hush, I can give you a $15 discount, it’ll only be $25 I just had a girl call out sick and I definitely need another girl STAT.”
It now occurs to me that I’m probably violating those terms by writing this, but if she read the blog, she probably wouldn’t be inviting me, right? Anyway, I liked how the need for another girl STAT made me sound kind of like a fancy hooker (Can’t you just picture Eliot Spitzer saying that?), so I agreed.
Then, when I arrived at the event, wallet in hand to pay my “hush hush” rate, the assistant checking people in didn’t mention that I wasn’t pre-paid. Score, I thought, free speed date!
But wait, it gets better. Before we started, the organizer said she’d give a free drink to anyone who knew who invented speed dating. Of course, as a veteran speed dater and a single sort-of-Jewish girl, I knew the answer. (No, not my grandma– someone beat her to the punch, and besides, she only believed in dating lawyers and doctors.) “A rabbi!” I yelled.
So in exchange for my one piece of Jewish historical knowledge (don’t ask me the difference between Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur), I earned a vodka seltzer and some respect in the speed dating community.
Success at last! I mean, as it turned out, I didn’t like any of the guys I met at the event, but since when has that been the point?