April had a groupon for this speed dating event – a two for one special… lucky me! We arrive early at McFaddens and grab a drink by the bar. GW is also hosting a happy hour and there are plenty of men to mingle with. Wait. So why are we doing this again? April and I have no trouble meeting guys but we are both willing to give speed dating a chance. Especially since we don’t seem to be meeting the right kind of guys.
The bell rings. It’s time for speed dating, folks! Girls are seated at tables and the guys move from one girl to the next. Only there aren't enough guys – so every other round you are sitting alone. Hmph. Typical. You get 5 minutes with each guy and let me tell you: five minutes can be a very, very , very looooooong time depending on who’s sitting in front of you.
There are many “blah” guys who don’t even register in my memory. A few stick out, though. The guy who talks a lot about video games. The guy who can’t think of anything to say and starts recycling questions. The tall Indian man with piercing blue eyes. The guy who purposefully moves his chair to sit closer to each woman and makes every woman feel uncomfortable about having her personal space invaded.
We were encouraged to write down notes about each guy and to put a star next to the ones we want to see again. I look down at my painfully star-less sheet of paper. Zero stars. None. Not a one. Just when I had lost all hope I hear…
There’s this whole convoluted email system that the speed dating organization sets up so you can see people’s pictures, find out who’s interested in you, send messages and likely cringe at the memories. Jason and I both “choose” the other and are alerted via email that we like each another. Score. Age of technology = win.
Jason comes to my house to pick me up. That’s right, ladies. He actually parks his car, walks to my front door, meets my dad (j/k) and picks me up. He doesn't say “let’s meet at such and such bar at 9 pm” or text me “I’m here” when he’s in my parking lot so I can scamper out. Seems like a small thing – but in an era when men are no longer men, he gets major bonus points.
I feel very comfortable with him. We quickly find out that we both have survived failed engagements (his reaction is actually to "high five" me when I tell him about my break up). He looks relieved that I can understand what he went through. I feel the same way. I decide after beer 2 that I like him.
Unfortunately we decide to have one more beer and that appears to be my tipping point. After beer 3, all I want to do is make out with him. We are being kicked out of the restaurant and are both heading to the restroom. I give him an opening and we share a kiss outside the bathroom. Romantic, eh? We leave with our arms around each other and pause to make out by the stairs leading down to the parking garage.
Once in my apartment’s parking lot, the seatbelts fly off and more making out ensues. I climb over to his bucket seat – shameless move, I know – and things are getting hot and heavy. When he undoes the clasp on my bra I’m instantly snapped back into reality. Pump. Those. Brakes. He walks me to my door like a nice man and doesn’t even ask to come inside. I’m relieved -there's nothing less attractive than a man pushing for sex.
Once inside I curse myself for letting things go that far. I mean – dude didn’t even get to second base BUT I should've just been content with a kiss goodnight. In any case, it is hands down the best date I've been on since Joseph. So to my ultimate chagrin, I owe a huge ol’ THANK YOU to speed dating. Not that I will ever do it again. I'm not that crazy.
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