Speed Dating At Its Best

I didn't want to go Speed Dating at first, but then I thought, why not, I’ve tried everything else. Besides, I figured that it was perfect for a girl with ADD (that would be me). The cost was somewhat reasonable, and after all, the drinks are free and you have the opportunity to meet the man of your dreams, right? Yes, well, not quite in my case.

I went with a girlfriend of mine, which I think was imperative to the experience--you will feel like you need therapy after, so it's important to be able to talk about it later with someone who was actually there with you. It was all set up in a lovely little lounge that held the ever so watchful eyes of the precarious 12 men. Do I sound like a total bitch when I say that one scan of the room and I could just feel that the love of my life wasn’t one of these fellows? We had some time to chat beforehand, and interestingly enough I met some fabulous women.

Then it began--I got to sit at the bar because they ran out of seats—incidentally, that worked in my favour later. Date No. 1 was nice, but I couldn’t' get a word in edgewise, which is surprising for me. Date No. 2 suggested we go outside and smoke up. I was almost physically ill from Date No. 3's breath. Date No. 4 thought I'd get a better idea of who he was if I met his mom afterwards. I’m pretty sure date No. 5 was gay. And so you can see the pattern and where the free drinks come in handy. By date No. 8, I was half cut, in deep flirtation with the bartender, and laughing out loud at the fact that I could successfully repeat verbatim, the exact same blurb about myself over and over.

When I reached date No. 10 I was exhausted and losing interest fast. In fact, I remember not really caring too much about making a good impression at that point, so I started making up stuff about myself and instantly said whatever came to mind. You can imagine how frightening that would have been to my remaining dates. By the time the last date was in front of me, I believe I greeted him with “ahoy matey”, and complimented him on his pirate outfit—ok, so he was just wearing a puffy shirt, but it looked like a costume at the time.

Here's the thing: cramming worked well in university, but I don't think dating was meant to work that way. Is it possible to find true love when plopped in a room full of guys that have a whopping 5 minutes to impress us? Or is it us as women who are trying too hard to find a man? It turned out that 5 of the guys wanted to meet me again—how ironic.

And so, what did I walk away with at the end of that night? Two of the women's phone numbers, the skill and ability to repeat the exact same thing 12 times in a row, a kiss from the bartender, and a horrible hangover the next morning. Was it worth it? Absolutely, if you value entertainment, that is.