In an attempt to embrace the risk-taker living deep (deep) within
me, I signed up for 8-Minute Dating. In doing so, I noticed a couple of
things. A) People think you’re crazy. B) People think you’re very, very
brave. C) People pity you because you are desperate. After taking a
look at the other 27 people crowded into the upper level of the Rosa on
Monday, Nov. 15, I learned that only option B accurately described the
people that I met.
There’s definitely a level of desperation with the dating scene
that can propel a person to sign up for 8-minute dating. But there are
other, equally valid and probably more common reasons that can entice a
person to have eight 8-minute dates in one night. There’s curiosity.
There’s frustration. There’s a willingness to try new things. There’s
free food. And there are at least eight single people who you already
know are looking for a fun date. There’s no guessing games, no covert
ring-checks, no jealous girlfriend in the corner giving me the evil
eye.
Before everything began upstairs, I had escaped to the bar to
get a drink, and a man asked me what my "excuse was" for signing up. My
answer was quick, but only half-true — "I’m a relationship columnist."
It’s a wonderful excuse to go out and do all sorts of crazy things. But
also, honestly, I was curious. What if I actually met somebody? Why not
try?
My old college roommate has participated in two other 8-Minute
Date nights. She went on a second date with one guy, who is still her
friend today. She didn’t meet anyone on the next try, but she’s still
willing to shell out another 35 bucks and see if she can find her
Prince Third-Time’s-a-Charm.
I think the problem is that some people in relationships forget
how lucky they are and don’t understand why someone would resort to
actively seeking out a new relationship. Other single people can
sometimes be too shy to try such an obvious attempt, or are so romantic
that they think they’ll just stumble over love when the time is right.
But this is America people! We respect and reward our go-getters! And
someone who puts themselves out there is more likely to find a
successful match than someone who waits around for the perfect moment
to come along.
You’re probably thinking these are just the words of some girl
desperate to not seem so desperate. And my quick response to the guy in
the bar might make it seem like you’re right. Regardless, I stand my by
words. And now that the little tirade is out of the way, I’ll move on
to what actually happened at the Rosa.
The Scene: 28 people with name tags loiter in the
upstairs of the Rosa. Little tables with white table cloths are
scattered between two rooms. Each table has a number, and two chairs.
Each person holds a little card that tells you what table you’re
supposed to be at and when. Almost everyone is trying to track down the
waitress so they can order drinks to calm their nerves.
When I entered the second time, drink in hand, I valiantly
tried not to look like I was checking everybody out. But that’s what I
did anyway. I decided with whom I wanted to get set up, and with whom I
didn’t. When the bell dinged signaling date time, I eagerly made my way
over to table 2.
I was stood-up.
I’d say this could only happen to me, but it happened to another
girl across the room as well. Two of the men didn’t show up, so for the
rest of the night, there was always a table of women, moaning about how
unreliable men are. In fact, I was "stood up" twice, being lucky enough
to get scheduled with the only two guys not there. There’s a chance I
should have been stood up three times, as one guy left and I think
someone else said they had sat with me by mistake. So instead of eight
dates, I got six.
Each date followed a similar pattern.
Act One: Introductions.
Act Two: Surface Questions (i.e., where ya from, what do you do, have you ever done this before. . . )
Act Three: More Questions
Act Four: Blah blah blah.
Act Five: The nice to meet you’s, the curtain call, the furtive scribbling of names and notes.
To overly generalize and to protect the innocent daters, I’ll
briefly sum up the men I met. Most of them were older than me (one even
older than the age limit, although he certainly didn’t look it.) One
guy had a Yiddish name but confessed there was nothing Yiddish about
him. Another had just recently self-published a book. Several of my
dates had driven for an hour or so to get to the event. Most of them
had dark hair. I felt like I clicked the most with the one blond I
encountered, who said he moved back to the area from a land-locked
state to be near the ocean. Since the ocean is probably my favorite
thing in the world (even better than ponies), he scored a lot of
points. Eventually, everybody seemed to blend in to each other, which
may have been the overwhelming number of people I met or the
Cape-Codders I consumed.
The next day, I signed online and indicated who I wanted a
second date with, who I wanted to be my friend, and who I wanted to be
a business contact (such a brush-off!). I even threw a girl’s name on
the list for "friend" because she was stood up when I was (both times!)
and I liked talking to her.
I only said I wanted a second date with one of the guys (guess
who), and, fortunately for my fragile ego, he did say he wanted a
second date with me. So hey, I guess this whole 8-minute thing worked.
We’ll see. I’ll keep you all updated, I promise.
If you too are very, very brave, you can check out 8-Minute Dating at www.8minutedating.com.
Heather Mackenzie can be reached at singleontheseacoast@yahoo.com.
