Speed Dating Disaster

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be trapped with tons of socially awkward, geeky guys who you would never in a million years give the time of day to? Well, wonder no more! Just sign up for speed dating!

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…

What are the odds? I know Jason from hockey when we both used to play for a league in Fairfax about five years ago. I remember thinking he was cute – even when I was dating his teammate. The five minutes with Jason felt more like 30 seconds and I knew I would be putting a star by his name.

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.

So Not a Date Movie

Amir and I have been friends for a while – going on 6 years, in fact. I met him playing in a coed soccer league when I first moved to DC. I always found him attractive. Stocky, black, great smile and terrific soccer player. Yum. He was dating someone at the time, though. And then when he tried to holler, I had already started dating Joseph. We kept in touch and still saw each other occasionally. He definitely pounced when he found out my relationship had ended. Thank you, facebook.

He used my birthday as an excuse to take me out to a fabulous Italian restaurant downtown. I looked hot. I felt sexy as hell and his approving look and subsequent compliments let me know my efforts were appreciated. Dinner was lovely – sparkling wine… sparkling conversation... sparkling company. He made me feel like a million bucks.

So what is my problem then? Why oh why did I get super squirrelly when he went for the kiss goodnight? It’s never happened to me before! This squirmy business. I mean, kissing is my jam – it’s what I’m good at. But when Amir leaned in, I froze. And I wasn't quick enough to give him my cheek so he got a half-mouth kiss. Groan. It was terrible. I was so awkward and embarrassed. We fumbled around and mumbled our goodbyes. Ughhhhhh.

I’m hoping to redeem myself when he calls and asks me to a movie the following week. What movie does he want to see? 50/50- the new Seth Rogen comedy. Within 20 minutes of the movie’s start, we find out the protagonist has spinal cancer. He’s 27. What. The. Fuck. I did NOT sign up for a cancer movie, people. I feel the tears coming. No. No. Please no. There are many scenes between this man and his mother and it hits a little too close to home. When I was home for my birthday I told my mom I never would’ve been able to go through my break up without her. My mom is a breast cancer survivor and the thought of losing her is unfathomable. Oh Jesus. And the waterworks begin.

Amir looks over at me a few times and I try to hide the fact I’m crying albeit not very successfully. He is surprised to say the least. The torturous movie is finally over but the tears won’t stop. Damn it. We are sitting alone in the semi-dark movie theater. Amir is staring at me with what looks like concern mixed with extreme fear. There is nothing a man hates more than a crying woman. NOTHING. The worst part is I can’t even explain why I’m so affected or emotional. The sobs rack my entire body and it’s the kind of crying that makes talking impossible. I’m horrified.

We haven’t gone out again. Weirdly enough it’s not because he didn't want to. He made it clear to me he was interested and willing to give me the time I needed. The truth is this: how do you recover from that? It’s too fast, too intense and too intimate. He saw something that very few people (especially men) ever get to see. As a warning to all of my fellow ladies, I’ve written a little poem.

Awkward half-mouth kisses
Are not the things he misses
Worse - tears on a date
And you’ve sealed your own fate