Speed dating experience blog


22-Jan-2020 00:23

My date decides to take full advantage of our brief five-minute window together:“So, Sarah, why are you single? He’d be a writer full-time if he could, he says, but he’s really let his creative side go lately.

He works with the homeless and he’s a DJ on the side, but if he had the time he’d write a whole book about dreams.

One of them tells me she attended one of these events a year ago and met a guy she dated for a while. Date One is in a blue-and-white checked button-down and works in transportation.

He looks like he’s probably in his early 30s, and he’s definitely nice enough, but I'm not super into him right off the bat. He gives me advice on the process, telling me it won’t do me any good to overthink it, the best thing to do is just let the conversation flow.

“Well, that’s a first,” he responds (for the record, I stand by this choice — it’s a quality film about familial loyalty and I refused to be convinced otherwise).

By Date Six, I’m most of the way through my house wine and have almost no voice left.

The first people I meet are two women who showed up together.

The music seems to have calmed down a bit, which I later discover is because Girl in Charge asked the venue owners to please lower the volume because there is a serious event happening. I tell him I haven’t met anyone I really jive with, and his natural follow-up question is, “Well, what are you looking for? Put me in a job interview and I’ll dazzle you with the hard skills on my resume, but ask me about my hobbies and the best thing I can squeak out is, “I really love to eat! Date Five wears a puffer vest and loves that I’m a writer.

It gives you the benefit of meeting several people in a short amount of time, which ups the odds that you’ll find someone you click with.

Michelle Mc Sweeney, linguist and expert on digital relationships, says that speed dating can work well simply because of numbers: “It’s the Tinder idea.

I am a sophisticated Single Professional, and I intend to get my money’s worth.

I show up to the Muses 35 karaoke bar in Midtown Manhattan on a Friday night, dressed in a gray sweater tucked into a dark skirt with riding boots.

I tell him I’m still new here, I’m from the South, I’m a writer, everything I can think of that would make me seem Interesting and Witty. The music is only getting louder, so I’m leaning in until I’m about two inches from his ear and screaming about how much I love to write and can he tell I’m from the South because usually people can’t detect my accent.