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"Daniel500" finds quicky courtships are a lot like old ice cream socials
By Daniel P. Finney
Post-Dispatch
07/27/2003
I'm sitting across the table from the gorgeous blonde with sparkly
blue eyes at Rue 13, a trendy sushi bar in downtown St. Louis.
The woman can't seem to find out enough about me, a situation to which I'm hardly accustomed.
"Where do you work?" she asks.
"I'm a writer for the Post-Dispatch."
"What do you write about?"
"Popular culture."
"What does that mean?"
"Uh, well, basically I write about comic books and movies and things people do."
"So that's a job?"
"Not really, but I am paid for it."
The woman keeps going. I'm a little embarrassed at the end of the chat because her interviewing skills far outstrip mine.
Alas, the woman's curiosity wasn't driven solely by my boyish good
looks, wry humor and eclectic charms. Instead, she was trying to figure
out whether I was worth talking to for more than 8 minutes.
I was at Rue 13 along with 28 other singles, ages 25 to 35, participating in a thing called 8minuteDating. The theory is that you can find out just enough about a person in 8 minutes that you'll be able to tell if you want to spend more time with him/her in the future.
There's a half dozen of these fast-track dating services out there,
such as Speed Dating and 6-Minute Dating for Professionals. There's a
local offshoot of It's Just Lunch, which matches people up for lunch
dates. A colleague wrote about trying that service a couple of years
ago or so. I guess my boss thought it was time for someone else in the
office to play guinea pig. So, when she suggested I give 8minuteDating a shot, I rolled my eyes.
I've wandered most avenues of dating.
I've had friends set me up, which can be all right except that I
don't like my dating life to have an audience - or nosy people who
think it's their duty (or right) to see how things are going.
I've dated co-workers, which can be great until it goes bad - and for me it always goes bad - and then work becomes a prickly place to be.
I tried the newfangled online dating through classifieds. I'd say
that one out of every three ads I replied to was a front for
pornographic Web sites - as if I needed help finding porn on the
Internet.
I've even done the old-fashioned bar and club scene, but it's
harder to look more square than me attempting to bust a move in my
button-down shirts and khaki slacks.
My grandma, apparently desperate for yet another great-grandchild,
suggested I go to church to meet a nice girl. But it's been so long
since this lapsed Methodist warmed the pews, I think God would
recognize the hypocrisy.
But, what the heck, I thought, I'll give 8minuteDating a try. At least if I don't like somebody, I won't have to be around them very long.
Here's the shocker: I had a great time.
I signed up for the service online after seeing a newspaper ad. I
received a confirmation e-mail for the place, time and date. I arrived
and got a name tag and a little note card. I was given a sort of
username: "Daniel500."
I also was assigned a series of tables to visit around the bar. I chatted with the lady across from me for, of course, 8
minutes. The rules are simple. Talk about whatever you want. Don't use
your full name. Don't ask for a phone number or e-mail. No exchanging
business cards.
The host of the event rings a bell after 8
minutes. Then you're given a couple minutes to mark down the person's
name, something to remind you about the person and whether you're
interested in a "second date," friendship or making a business
connection. Then you move on to the next table.
After you go home, you log on to www.8minutedating.com
and enter the usernames of the people you're interested in. You check
back in a few days to see whether those people entered your name. If
they did, then you can get their full names, e-mails and phone numbers.
From there, it's up to you to make one thing lead to another.
During my series of 8-minute courtships, I learned this right away: Women in this group knew what they wanted.
Not once all night did I have to break the ice. The women who sat
down with me came firing questions. I barely got a couple questions off
before the bell rang.
These women were beautiful - and I don't mean in the "she's got a
great personality" way. None of them seemed particularly shy or
wilting. They were mostly confident, serious-minded, professional types
who, it appeared, had no time for the club scene and little patience
for online shenanigans.
They were all different kinds of people: a radio promoter, a speech
therapist, a corporate projects manager, an elementary school teacher
and another newspaper reporter.
I even met a girl from back home. The woman with a bright smile was
from the Ankeny, Iowa, a northern suburb of my native Des Moines.
It was a relief to finally talk to somebody who didn't look at me
quizzically when I mentioned East High or Drake University, VEISHA or
the Drake Relays.
(Alas, I scored no hometown-advantage points . The Ankeny gal did not pick me as a match.)
I even managed to get stood up in 8minuteDating. One lady didn't show up, which meant eight other guys and I got stiffed one date during the night.
I left Rue 13 not knowing whether I'd get a match or not.
Oh, well.
I enjoyed talking to a bunch of people over a short period of time.
During a 20-minute break between sessions, I mingled with some of the
other daters, meeting probably a dozen people in less than two hours -
a personal record, I think.
At its heart, 8minuteDating is
a little bit like the old-fashioned ice cream socials my Grandma Gertie
used to tell me about. There, townsfolk would get together and go
courtin', as my grandma called it. You'd have an excuse to talk to
anybody because, well, that's what you're there for.
And maybe that's why we busy, modern people need 8minuteDating.
Our utility belts and purses are loaded down with cell phones, Palm
Pilots and beepers with instant connections to everybody and
everything, it seems, except other people with whom to fall in love.
So 8minuteDating, and all its
competing varieties, is that modern ice cream social - with beer and
sushi - where we make time to meet people and, well, go courtin'.
I didn't care much.
I'd spent an evening talking to a series of beautiful women, every one of whom I wanted talk to for longer than 8 minutes.
Heck, I had such a good time, I didn't even care if I made a match.
As it turns out, I made two matches. And to be honest, I'm glad I did. Who needs rejection from eight women in one night?
Reporter Daniel P. Finney
E-mail: dfinney@post-dispatch.com
Phone: 314-340-8373
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