Adventures in Speed Dating

Today I went speed dating. But first I had to find something to wear. So I went to "New York's best kept secret": Century 21 in Lower Manhattan, the big daddy of discount designer stores.

Century 21 advertises "fashion worth fighting for." I would imagine, judging by the number of people in the store on a Tuesday afternoon, that fisticuffs could ensue on weekends. It's like an upscale Gordman's that runs its fitting rooms like the TSA. I bought a jacket, a T-shirt, a long-sleeved shirt and a dress for less than $80.

This took me much longer than I thought, and it's a half-hour train ride from my apartment, so I was scrambling to get ready by the time I got back. The bar where speed dating was, incidentally, was about a block from where I stayed when I interned last summer.

I was late. And a little scared. But I thought dammit, I did not take the train (two of them actually) all the way to the east village in the snow just so I could turn around and go home. So I went in and they were just starting.

"I thought you were going to stand me up!" said my first "date." There were 15 guys there but we each had seven dates. We sat down at a table and talked about stupid random stuff for about five minutes until it was time to switch, another guy sat down at my table, and the process repeated six times (down to the details of most of the conversations.) At the end of each date, we filled out a piece of paper with our name, the date's name and whether we wanted to see them again.

The age group was 23-33, and most of the guys I talked to looked like they couldn't have possibly been young enough for that age range. One asked me how old I was as soon as I sat down at the table. Four or so had jobs with some permutation of "finance," "software," "production" and "engineer" in the title (not that there's anything wrong with that). One asked me how the skiing was in the mountains of Wisconsin. Nice guys, all, but none for whom I felt, pardon the cliche, that spark. Of the seven guys I talked to, I checked "yes" for one of them. And that was only because I was trying to be open-minded.

At the end, we each got an envelope with our matches. Or in my case, a sheet that said 'sorry, you don't have any matches. Please come again.' No big loss, really.

And then I started talking to one of the guys I hadn't gotten to "date." And we ended up having a few more drinks and walking to the train together. Did we have a nice conversation? Yes. But is there potential? No. Am I picky? Yes. But is there hope for me? I hope so.