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.]