So Barbara went speed dating.
Women were invited to attend free.
Perhaps it’s easier to get men to sign up than it is to get women to sign up for these things.
I was wondering why she didn’t invite me to join in the, ahem, fun when I remembered that I’m an ENTIRE DECADE OLDER than Barbara.
So I COULDN’T ATTEND.
Why throw in a non-breeder with all those breeders.
It’s not like I’m going to have kids with a 30 year old.
Been there and DONE THAT.
PAYING FOR COLLEGE FOR IT, actually.
Yesterday at a Galentine’s Tea, the ladies asked Barbara about it.
Her experience much mirrored my own experience speed dating:
- Five minutes can be a REALLY LONG TIME if there’s no connection.
- In the end, all you need is ONE. But it feels like a FUCKING NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK!
So just to remind you all of my speed dating disaster, here is what I wrote back in September 2014 when I lost my mind and decided speed dating was a good idea:
What shouldn’t you do when speed dating? Speed date. Full stop.
Just. Don’t. Do. It.
Let me save you the trouble and paint a picture of my speed dating debacle.
The evening started off nice enough with me getting stopped on the streets of downtown San Jose by a random man who wanted to tell me I looked beautiful. Awwww.
I arrived at the restaurant feeling confident. I was 30 minutes early so I decided to order one of their signature cocktails.
Bartender can’t make it. No grapefruit.
So I order a Sazerac – only the OLDEST cocktail in history.
Bartender can’t make that either.
Fine! I had an old fashioned.
I sipped on my cocktail, sulking a bit. Unimpressed with the bartender.
People started arriving for the event. I was eating a nice bloody rare steak I’d been craving when I was interrupted by the event hosts. Time to go!
Shit! No time to pee or brush my teeth after eating all that garlic and jalapenos at dinner. Oh well. Faux pas.
And did it matter?
Not one bit.
What happened next is what I like to call the “Parade of Trolls.” My dates were all fat, short, and even rude on several occasions.
They’d been rode hard and put away wet.
Oh, and did I mention that because I didn’t get a chance to pee I accidentally peeped my pants? Just a skosh.
Yeah, I was a real winner too.
Let me just say right now if I’m going to wear a too tight bra, I’d better be rewarded at the end of it. There was no reward here.
My only reward was my freedom. The joy of running out the restaurant door straight to my car to head home and purge the last two hours from my memory.
This whole experience has soured me to the entire dating world. There’s nothing I want less right now than another fucking first date.
Gah! Fucking speed dating!
I’m going to sit at home, eat cheese, and drink martinis while watching episodes of “Keeping up with the Kardashians.”
Speed date? I’d rather chew on tinfoil while shaving my head with a cheese grater!