An objective report

Some of you probably think that I exaggerate about my dating experiences. I mean, how could there be that many weird guys out there? And why do I run into all of them? (Just so you know, these are the sort of questions that keep me up at night.) But to prove that I’m not making this any of this up, this week’s post is an email written by a friend of mine. The night before, she and I had gone to a singles event together, but I left early, demoralized. Here’s her description– word for word– of the only guy who asked for my number:

I talked to your buddy [NAME EXPUNGED, BUT IT WAS WEIRD, TRUST ME] for a little while.  When asked what he did for a living, he tiptoed around the fact that he’s unemployed because of disability.  When asked what his disability was, he doesn’t know because no one let him see the paperwork. (?) I asked if he didn’t know what his disability was, how did he know he had one, and how did he apply for it, and this question seems to baffle his brain.  He does, however, volunteer (somewhere weird) and he also plays (and teaches?) chess. He also asked about you and what your deal was. And said the word “supposably.”


Of receding importance

The form that is traditionally handed out at speed dates is pretty simple: space for your dates’ names, their identifying numbers, some room to take notes, and a Y and an N to indicate whether you’d like to see them again or not. (One company allows you to designate matches as dating, friendship or business, but everyone knows that’s a farce: are you really going to send your resume to someone who knows that you’re a manther?)

But one company recently added some structure to the note-taking area. They now have boxes you can check to note whether a particular date is funny, cute, smart or interesting. Those all seemed like reasonable qualifications. It was the fifth column that amused me: good hair.

Were these forms leftover from a college dating event, I wondered? ‘Cause any thirtysomething woman will tell you, with our dates, hair is a yes-or-no question.

Don’t say that #35

My conversational rules usually only apply during speed dates. But for this week’s case, I’m going to make an exception and extend the window of “what not to say to a girl you’ve just met” from four minutes to eight hours. My friend had met a guy and things were going very, very well (they were in her bed), when he opened his mouth and revealed that he was already working on his escape plan.

“If I don’t call you, call me. I’m an idiot and sometimes get busy and forget,” he said.

Right. Busy. I’ve never heard that one before.

A blast from the past

Speed Dating Girl is on a ski vacation right now, so this week’s post is an excerpt from my personal archives (it originally ran in the Summit Independent, a now-defunct Colorado newspaper). It tells the story of another ski adventure, way back on Valentine’s Day 2003:

I’ve been waiting a long time for my writing skills to pay off in my love life. It’s not like I can whip out newspaper clips in a bar and knock them off their feet. Writing is a good way to get a job, but it doesn’t help much with the boys. Until… I won the KSMT Valentine’s Day blind date.

Based on the creativity of our emailed entries [Update: My entry said, “I live in a town with twice as many guys as girls and I still don’t get any play.” I don’t know why I didn’t want to share that info with all the newspaper readers. Guess I had more dignity back then.] DJ Steve chose me and a random guy to enjoy an all-expenses-paid evening with him.

It wasn’t your typical blind date. To start with, the ski area had been waiting for us all day. KSMT had decorated gondola number 69 as “the love shack,” complete with heart stickers and crepe paper. If you though the average first-ski-lift conversation was awkward, try the pressure of the love shack.

After skiing we headed off to dinner. By normal standards, this might have already been a long first date. You’ve been through all the obvious conversation, about school, work, family– what to talk about now? [Update: Obviously, I didn’t yet know about the monkey/robot dilemma.] That’s why I would recommend taking a DJ along on any first date. There are no awkward pauses when one person on your date talks for a living.

But there were certain weird aspects to winning your date on the radio. Like, the whole world knew about it. And they, or my friends at least, were very, very excited about the date. In fact, the experience wasn’t technically “blind,” because one of my friends happened to go by my date’s workplace and dig up all the dirt she could on him.

And once they had put in that much effort, my friends apparently felt they had a vested interest in the date. Huddled around their radios, they just didn’t get quite enough info. So since then, my life has had one primary topic of conversation. “How was Friday night?” [Update: Turns out this was just practice for when at least once during every party, family reunion, or trip to the office bathroom, someone asks, “How’s the speed dating?”]

It was fun. Really. But it would have been near impossible for the actual date to live up to the hype.

It was nice to learn, though, that writing well could improve my social life once in a while. And no, I’m not about to start internet dating. [Update: Riiight.] A friend pointed out that that’s really the way to pick up people with the written word.

I’ll be right here, waiting for the perfect guy to be bowled over by my ability to construct a compound sentence. [Update: Shhh! Better not to tell her how long that wait is.]