DATE 29 – THE ONES ON SPEED
Updated: Feb 27, 2020
Speed dating isn’t an easy task at the best of times but it’s a challenge made all the more competitive when you traipse along with two of your most beautiful friends. Hence I found myself in the Sugar Cane Bar sandwiched between the gorgeous duo whilst awkwardly drinking a fruity mocktail. To my left was Blonde Bombshell Friend with her perfect gym-toned physique and to my right was Classic Irish Friend with her perfect peaches-and-cream complexion and genuine interest in people. I was the slightly overcooked spam filling.
The event started well enough: my first date lived with his parents, was “in between jobs” and allegedly starting a PHd in micro-biology. Things got better as the next guy openly admitted that he was only there as an experiment for some research he was doing for a special needs group. My third date talked for at least 2 of our 4 minutes about my blonde friend and the rest of the time about how Artificial Intelligence was going to take over the world and make people redundant. Any intelligence, artificial or otherwise, would have been welcome at this point.
Then we had a break. Our hot Scottish host was enthusiastic and jointly managed not to look too disdainfully at the slim pickings of masculinity in the room nor look too long at the dazzling displays of femininity. I would have happily swapped places with any of the men for the second round. Instead I steeled myself with another mocktail and took my seat.
The next part of the evening began with me being told that my English was very good. I replied that I would be disappointed if it were otherwise given I had been learning it for 30 years. To fill in the awkward silence, he told me all about his job in Sainsburys. My next date and I had a really interesting conversation about philosophy and the meaning of life which gave me hope for the rest of the evening. Afterwards I found out from my Irish friend that he’d told her he thought I was drunk.
The last of the speed dates included a guy who said that my job was insignificant compared with his (he was a data analyst), a very tall guy who sold insurance and lastly a 23 year old tattooed musician whom I’m fairly sure was high and who rambled on and on about his record label.
By the end of the evening I had a sugar rush, no matches and a new found appreciation for the murky world of online dating apps. Thank the online gods for Tinder.
29 April 2017