How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love Speed Dating

So. My friend Chris has been hosting a speed dating event (appropriately titled The Internet Killed Your Social Skills) for a few months now. I showed up last Thursday as an observer. The event takes place at an old haunt of mine in Williamsburg, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to pop in and see what the fuss was about. Upon arrival, I beckoned Chris over to explain the concept to me– more or less, it seemed like your typical speed dating situation: the girls are stationed at tables, and the men move from one girl to the next each time the DJ changes the song (sounds like a typical night out, don’t it?). You write down who you like on an index card, and the administrators e-mail you later with the results.

I’m like, okay, this seems cool. Want me to do a story on it? Maybe I’ll participate at the next event. And Chris is like yeah! That’s great! Except a half hour later, he’s back at my table, asking me to sign up to even out the girl to guy ratio.

Naturally, I took the bait. It’s like that Ace of Base song, I Saw The Sign. Why wait a month when the opportunity had already arrived, pretty much leering at me? Like, glaring at my cleavage? That’s how in-my-face this opportunity was. When life hands you lemons, ask for the vodka– amiright?

I was registered and seated at a table with another girl. We sat across from one another and made small talk, probably in an attempt to size each other up. Nice girl, but I wasn’t too concerned with her stealing my thunder. I’d soon find out that I would get the first stab at every guy, and she’d get my sloppy seconds. Too soon, in fact. I was in the middle of tweeting all of this when the games began and the first guy sat next to me.

Um. I know that, logistically, I was seated across from another girl and not my “date” because the guys needed to be able to move around, but if ever there were a time I needed a physical barrier, it was with this first dude. Touchy-feely was not a good look on him. I’m no prude, and I’m sure if I were attracted to him, all of the shoulder-grazing and light-touch-0f-the-knee-ing would have had me all “ooh, HAAAY NOW!”, but that wasn’t the case.

For the duration of a song, I endured a series of awkward laughter and light petting. But that was all! At the end of the song, the dude was gone (well, across the table touching someone else) and I was free to flirt (or not flirt) with whoever happened upon the barstool next.

Some made me laugh:

Some made me listen (Ashley mistook this face as a death-stare, but I swear! I was just listening):

And some just made me scream (internally); WHAT THE FUCK?! I mean, naturally there was Token Nervous Guy, who surprised me by walking away without a puddle of piss in his pants. Then there was The Redneck Dressed in Hipster Clothing, whose beard and mustache were anything but ironic.

Four beers deep and ten guys later, the jig was up and I was no more in love than when I had arrived. Some of us reconvened and discussed the experience with each other (Redneck invited me to smoke a joint with him and his friend, but my roommate advised me that this was probably a threesome invite so I politely declined). No one seemed overly impressed, but no one was wallowing in regret, either.

My take? Speed dating, especially in a laid back environment, is fucking awesome! I’ve been on my fair share of horrific dates, but they lasted a hell of a lot longer than three minutes. It’s also likely that when you embark on an unmonitored date, your partner has ways of contacting you afterward; even if you’d rather be placed in a witness protection program than encounter them ever again. Speed dating assures that, barring a TMI moment, your date will not have enough information to contact you unless you agree to it.

Much like online dating, there’s a stigma that people who try alternative dating are undesirable or can’t get a date otherwise. Will you meet people like that when speed dating? Of course. The beauty is that, unlike online dating, you’re not required to torture yourself for an indeterminate amount of time. You don’t have to lie or make up excuses. You just humor someone you don’t like for a few minutes, which, if you have a career, is something you’re probably great at!

If you’re ready to get your head out of your ass and try The Internet Killed Your Social Skills on for size, the event takes place every first Thursday of the month at Macri Park in Brooklyn, NY. Join the Facebook page or follow them on Tumblr for more information.