Margaritas And Previously Unknown Coworkers: My Speed Dating Experience

Blog entry 0n Ladyblog–

Who’s it gonna be: Ernie the environmental consultant from Jersey, Mike the mathematician from MIT, or the creepy writer who likes baseball only slightly less than he likes hearing his own voice talking about baseball?

Where is my Margarita?

Unfortunately, tequila wasn’t an option at my first-ever speed dating event, one for Jews between the ages of 20 and 30. I’m not sure if this is unique to Jewish speed dating, or if it’s common with all types of speed dating, but there’s a bit of a problem when the initial excitement wears off and the conversation…blows up. In twenty sets of 4 minute increments, guys have better learned their speech by heart, or they are lost in translation. Women are bored way more easily than they are entertained, so the cards are already stacked against them.

“It’s only two hours and there is nothing to lose. It’s not gonna kill me. It might be worth it,” said my next-door speed-dating neighbor.   After 30 minutes or so, she turned back around and said she might take off earlier because she wasn’t sure if there was anything worth waiting for after all. I wasn’t surprised; she had just spoken to Bob the baseball writer who proudly disclosed that he has been at these events several times.

But there’s something good about speed dating, despite the, uh, variety of personality types and the overpriced cocktails. The ratio women to men was actually very well balanced, and suffering through the pain can bring you some laughter, even if it’s only an overdose of jokes about your Italian accent and the fact that your nationality is a synonymous of the mafia. Its even better if, among the people with whom you are supposed to have awkward 4-minute interactions, there sits a writer for the magazine that you work for, who until that point you didn’t even know apart from his avatar name.

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