Okay, the moment you've all been waiting for . . . the speed-dating story. Get comfortable, it's a long one.
It started a few weeks ago when I saw the flyers all over Kensington for 25dates.com. I'd heard of them before and had even checked out their site, but now I was seriously considering it. 46 bucks seemed a bit steep at the time, but weeks later I would come back and realize I not only had time on their scheduled night for my age range, I even had the money. Had to get a friend to book me in using his credit card since you need 12 business days to pay any other way, but eventually it finally happened.
Wednesday night and I'm winging my way downtown on the bus, trying to find The Verve, not realizing it's replaced the restaurant that used to be in Epcor Centre. With the help of a cabbie with a thick Eastern European accent, I find it only five minutes late. My concerns were groundless, of course - I don't think I've been to an event in Calgary that started on time.
After checking in and getting a name tag, a number (39) and a list, we had almost half an hour to buy drinks, eat free hors d'oeurves and chat. Of course, this is a group of 50 people who have all paid money to meet the opposite sex, so there was quite a bit of guys-on-one-side-girls-on-t'other reminiscent of junior high. A couple of guys talked to me with a flavour of enthusiasm that made me assume they were in sales, one chatty latino fellow talking about how this was his first time and being talked into it by his bespectacled white buddy. Names occurred and were quickly forgotten.
I found an open area with chairs in it and assumed (incorrectly) they'd be using it eventually and took a seat to watch the maelstrom from a distance, a $3 mostly-ice gingerale in my hand. IMHO, we were a pretty good-looking crowd, so I waffled between feeling like I was amongst peers to feeling outclassed. I see a blond woman in a tan jacket talking to another woman talking to another woman in a skirt and funky glasses, then eclipsed by a petite brunette in a long scarf. I was starting to psych myself out so I got up to try the free stuff and ended up chatting with two asian women near the sideboard for quite a while.
Eventually they called us together and explained the rules. Women scatter to the lettered tables and set up shop, while the guys pick a starting table and work their way through the alphabet. One standardized ice-breaking joke about knowing the alphabet later and we were on our way.
Shenni/Nicole/Tanya/Heather/Inez/Jackie/Jen/Jean/Jane/Jennifer/Maureen/Nha/Victoria/Angeline/etc works in accounting/retail/project management/oil & gas/used cars/pet shop/student/etc and is into movies/music/hiking/camping/working out/board games/fine arts/etc and has never done anything like this before. She asks me what I do for a living/for fun/if I've ever done this before. I tell her about the community centre/modelling/theatre/dance/geek tendencies/DING! Next table! What number were you again?
There's actually more variation than that, but that's a good representation the majority of it. For the most part, they're good people, and out of 23 I mark down 20 that I wouldn't mind spending time beyond the last 3 minutes. Then comes The Wait.
It's two days until you get the results, which is reasonable, but I was pretty impatient to see how the results would turn out. There were a few in particular I was really hoping and expecting to hear back from: the blond from Lethbridge who'd got her fine arts degree and seemed really amazed that I'd had dance training; another whose conversation had suddenly turned to Settlers of Cattan just as we timed out; and just maybe that art student with the scarf, or even the skirt & glasses woman. My father had actually tried a different service and had 4 women out of 10 contact him, so I figured if I'd got anything from him nature- or nurture-wise I should be getting 8-10 women contacting me, but thought I'd be cool with half that.
There were three. Again, that's not too bad, as long as I don't think about at least 17 women not considering my A-game good enough to get a coffee with. I've read far too much on the subject, though, and most advice I've heard says getting a yes 10-20% of the time is normal. But again, this setup eliminates all the "not looking" crowd, or at least minimizes it, so . . .
Done with the dissection, I went to the site to check the profiles of my matches, which also "unlock" only to the people you match with. One of them was one of the asian girls I'd talked to before, another was the woman with the pet store (as near as I could remember) and the third I almost completely blanked on. So I sent out emails to all three, mentioning in the latter two that I wasn't sure if I remembered them right (the first girl being the only one with a photo in her profile at the time).
One woman responded within an hour of my email. She was the one I'd guessed totally wrong on who she was, so she threw me a bone with a few reminders and a pic. She works at the Children's Hospital, she likes foreign and independent film and she was the one in the skirt and glasses. I wrote her back and told her I remembered the pendant she'd been wearing that she'd said she'd picked up in Ontario and that she smiled with her whole face and all of her teeth. See, I'd paid attention, it was just difficult to remember. Her name is Heather
I set up a coffee date with her, saying I was planning on catching a film at the Globe but hadn't decided between "Mrs. Henderson Presents" and "Night Watch" and was going to be hanging at a coffee shop from 5-7 beforehand. Now those that know me know I don't actually do this very often, but the main reason for that is that I prefer not to go alone to film because I don't like spending money on myself that doesn't actively feed or shelter me, and expanding that list to "social activities" is relatively new. So it could be said that giving the impression that I do this all the time is deceptive, but since it's moving me toward a more idealized version of myself, it's forgivable. For comparison, I figure it's equivalent to buying clothes that you will EVENTUALLY fit into.
Miraculously, she says she'll be there. Even more miraculously, I am there, a half-hour after I said I would be but just setting my chai-latte-toting ass in a big comfy chair when she shows up. We chat a bit, and a bit more and suddenly a 30-minute test-coffee-date turns into 2 hours. She's glad for the chat but can't make time for the film due to working on her Master's Thesis, so I walk her down Stephen Avenue, pointing out places of interest and escorting her to the train before running off to catch mine. I take the train down to a friend's place who has passing interest in my dating ways and we get solid game of Civilization IV going. (Betcha didn't see that coming! So many ways to say loser indeed!)
The day after I was feeling so good I was practically giddy. She had written me back and said she'd had a great time and wanted to do it again sometime. I invited her out to the Metalmorphosis Closing Reception and Masquerade Ball at ACAD, knowing that a friend of mine would very likely be belly dancing there and Heather had mentioned she'd taken a class before and was still interested. Perfect real first date, right? I got an email saying she was going to BC this weekend to see friends and couldn't make it. By that point the endorphin rush was leaching out of my system and setting me up to crash, so now I'm paranoid that I'll miss some kind of window or she won't be as interested in me as I thought or she'll end up going with one of the other guys she got matched with (my money's on at least 6) and I'll be back to square one again.
You'd think I'd become immune to my own drama eventually. I honestly think this could go well. I just have to make it through the weekend. Wish me luck.
It started a few weeks ago when I saw the flyers all over Kensington for 25dates.com. I'd heard of them before and had even checked out their site, but now I was seriously considering it. 46 bucks seemed a bit steep at the time, but weeks later I would come back and realize I not only had time on their scheduled night for my age range, I even had the money. Had to get a friend to book me in using his credit card since you need 12 business days to pay any other way, but eventually it finally happened.
Wednesday night and I'm winging my way downtown on the bus, trying to find The Verve, not realizing it's replaced the restaurant that used to be in Epcor Centre. With the help of a cabbie with a thick Eastern European accent, I find it only five minutes late. My concerns were groundless, of course - I don't think I've been to an event in Calgary that started on time.
After checking in and getting a name tag, a number (39) and a list, we had almost half an hour to buy drinks, eat free hors d'oeurves and chat. Of course, this is a group of 50 people who have all paid money to meet the opposite sex, so there was quite a bit of guys-on-one-side-girls-on-t'other reminiscent of junior high. A couple of guys talked to me with a flavour of enthusiasm that made me assume they were in sales, one chatty latino fellow talking about how this was his first time and being talked into it by his bespectacled white buddy. Names occurred and were quickly forgotten.
I found an open area with chairs in it and assumed (incorrectly) they'd be using it eventually and took a seat to watch the maelstrom from a distance, a $3 mostly-ice gingerale in my hand. IMHO, we were a pretty good-looking crowd, so I waffled between feeling like I was amongst peers to feeling outclassed. I see a blond woman in a tan jacket talking to another woman talking to another woman in a skirt and funky glasses, then eclipsed by a petite brunette in a long scarf. I was starting to psych myself out so I got up to try the free stuff and ended up chatting with two asian women near the sideboard for quite a while.
Eventually they called us together and explained the rules. Women scatter to the lettered tables and set up shop, while the guys pick a starting table and work their way through the alphabet. One standardized ice-breaking joke about knowing the alphabet later and we were on our way.
Shenni/Nicole/Tanya/Heather/Inez/Jackie/Jen/Jean/Jane/Jennifer/Maureen/Nha/Victoria/Angeline/etc works in accounting/retail/project management/oil & gas/used cars/pet shop/student/etc and is into movies/music/hiking/camping/working out/board games/fine arts/etc and has never done anything like this before. She asks me what I do for a living/for fun/if I've ever done this before. I tell her about the community centre/modelling/theatre/dance/geek tendencies/DING! Next table! What number were you again?
There's actually more variation than that, but that's a good representation the majority of it. For the most part, they're good people, and out of 23 I mark down 20 that I wouldn't mind spending time beyond the last 3 minutes. Then comes The Wait.
It's two days until you get the results, which is reasonable, but I was pretty impatient to see how the results would turn out. There were a few in particular I was really hoping and expecting to hear back from: the blond from Lethbridge who'd got her fine arts degree and seemed really amazed that I'd had dance training; another whose conversation had suddenly turned to Settlers of Cattan just as we timed out; and just maybe that art student with the scarf, or even the skirt & glasses woman. My father had actually tried a different service and had 4 women out of 10 contact him, so I figured if I'd got anything from him nature- or nurture-wise I should be getting 8-10 women contacting me, but thought I'd be cool with half that.
There were three. Again, that's not too bad, as long as I don't think about at least 17 women not considering my A-game good enough to get a coffee with. I've read far too much on the subject, though, and most advice I've heard says getting a yes 10-20% of the time is normal. But again, this setup eliminates all the "not looking" crowd, or at least minimizes it, so . . .
Done with the dissection, I went to the site to check the profiles of my matches, which also "unlock" only to the people you match with. One of them was one of the asian girls I'd talked to before, another was the woman with the pet store (as near as I could remember) and the third I almost completely blanked on. So I sent out emails to all three, mentioning in the latter two that I wasn't sure if I remembered them right (the first girl being the only one with a photo in her profile at the time).
One woman responded within an hour of my email. She was the one I'd guessed totally wrong on who she was, so she threw me a bone with a few reminders and a pic. She works at the Children's Hospital, she likes foreign and independent film and she was the one in the skirt and glasses. I wrote her back and told her I remembered the pendant she'd been wearing that she'd said she'd picked up in Ontario and that she smiled with her whole face and all of her teeth. See, I'd paid attention, it was just difficult to remember. Her name is Heather
I set up a coffee date with her, saying I was planning on catching a film at the Globe but hadn't decided between "Mrs. Henderson Presents" and "Night Watch" and was going to be hanging at a coffee shop from 5-7 beforehand. Now those that know me know I don't actually do this very often, but the main reason for that is that I prefer not to go alone to film because I don't like spending money on myself that doesn't actively feed or shelter me, and expanding that list to "social activities" is relatively new. So it could be said that giving the impression that I do this all the time is deceptive, but since it's moving me toward a more idealized version of myself, it's forgivable. For comparison, I figure it's equivalent to buying clothes that you will EVENTUALLY fit into.
Miraculously, she says she'll be there. Even more miraculously, I am there, a half-hour after I said I would be but just setting my chai-latte-toting ass in a big comfy chair when she shows up. We chat a bit, and a bit more and suddenly a 30-minute test-coffee-date turns into 2 hours. She's glad for the chat but can't make time for the film due to working on her Master's Thesis, so I walk her down Stephen Avenue, pointing out places of interest and escorting her to the train before running off to catch mine. I take the train down to a friend's place who has passing interest in my dating ways and we get solid game of Civilization IV going. (Betcha didn't see that coming! So many ways to say loser indeed!)
The day after I was feeling so good I was practically giddy. She had written me back and said she'd had a great time and wanted to do it again sometime. I invited her out to the Metalmorphosis Closing Reception and Masquerade Ball at ACAD, knowing that a friend of mine would very likely be belly dancing there and Heather had mentioned she'd taken a class before and was still interested. Perfect real first date, right? I got an email saying she was going to BC this weekend to see friends and couldn't make it. By that point the endorphin rush was leaching out of my system and setting me up to crash, so now I'm paranoid that I'll miss some kind of window or she won't be as interested in me as I thought or she'll end up going with one of the other guys she got matched with (my money's on at least 6) and I'll be back to square one again.
You'd think I'd become immune to my own drama eventually. I honestly think this could go well. I just have to make it through the weekend. Wish me luck.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
You have my admiration, in my entire life I have *never* been able to make a 'pick-up', even this specialized situation. i have to get to know girls over the course of weeks/months in order to get a date.
As far as the kiss goes, I'm good at that, my advice is to act like you are going to peck her on the lips, and then give a soft-but dry just below the cheekbone.
Chix are helpless before the sensual power of the soft but dry.