Before:
I balk at the Facebook invite from the University Center. Speed dating. Just the thought of it makes my skin crawl. Single is not synonymous with desperate, I think to myself. However unappealing the prospect might have sounded, I was obviously one of many in attendance. Curiosity got the best of me and I RSVP’d a “maybe” (although I was fully intending to go).
As the day drew near I began to wonder how horridly revealing the fluorescent lights would be. What if no one liked me? What if they thought I was desperate, or even worse, that I couldn’t find someone on my own?
At 6 pm on Thursday February 10thand I climbed the steps to the third floor of the UC, making note of the other girls doing the same and, of course, what they were wearing. I walked into the ballroom and I was thankful to see that the harsh fluorescent lighting the university favors had been dimmed to provide us with, what I’m sure they hoped would be, a modicum of ambiance.
After:
Alright, so I may have overreacted a bit. Once the novelty of speed dating wore off, I was actually able to enjoy myself. The attendees were supplied with hot chocolate and chocolate candies (aphrodisiacs, anyone?). People filed into the ballroom, filling up every available seat, and still requiring more. The only awkward part of the evening occurred during this time, before the clock started. I was seated across from an unknown bachelor, and was unsure whether I should talk to him and risk running out of conversation topics before our 90 seconds actually began. A few minutes of avoiding eye contact and awkward smiles ensued, but the rest of the hour and a half progressed smoothly and pleasantly. When there was a break in the lineof guys I was thankful for a reprieve from small talk and was finally able to catch my breath. It seemed I was either breathing quick shallow breaths, or not breathing at all.
I compare the experience of speed dating to one of getting your ears pierced. You are a little frightened until you actually do it and realize it’s a piece of cake. It wasn’t shameful or desperate in the least, and not altogether unsuccessful, if you know what I mean.