Once Upon a Speed Date

My friend and I arrived at the Press Club a few minutes after 7:40 and, neither of us having eaten dinner, debated whether to run across the street to the Walgreens for a Cliff Bar before going in. Anxious about being late we decided to skip Walgreens. We need not have worried. We were the first ones there for the Speed Dating event, hosted by Pre-Dating. It was to be held downstairs in an enclosed section of the bar. The rest of the venue was taken over by a Match.com mixer event. We descended the stairs feeling like the redheaded stepchildren of the dating world and slinked into the empty section of bar that would eventually be filled with a collection of individuals that resembled the Island of Misfit Toys. At least, that's what it felt like to me next to the chic, glamorous bustle of the Match.com affair as I stood watching the other speed daters arrive.

I registered, ordered a glass of wine and mingled with the other women there while we waited for things to begin. Almost all the women there (8 total) came with a friend or two. We were all dressed in business casual attire. For me speed dating is an entertaining adventure, a source for fun, to be laughed about. It is inherently social. I would never consider going without friends. Yet, each of the 6 men who signed up came alone. Each was awkward in his own way. Now, I am not saying that I am not also awkward or uncomfortable at times (as will be demonstrated below) but with this particular collection of men there was an air of lonely desperation. The women were there to meet new people and to have fun with their friends. The men were there to meet new people because it felt like this was the only way left to them. Am I being cruel? I hope not. I could be completely wrong but I am not the only one who left with the same impression.

Because there were more women than men each of the women sat through two 6 minute sessions with no male counterpart to talk to. These awkward moments were spent sipping wine, sneaking peaks at our phones and eventually getting to know the other woman without a partner for that round. During the 5 - 10 minute break halfway through the evening one of the women commented that it was actually easier to make new female friends at these events than to meet men she wanted to date. Too true.

I spent the first round without a partner. I looked around and sighed. Other than one extremely tall man (6'10"!) all of them were short, round and/or balding. I do not want to seem shallow or judgmental. I am under no delusion that I epitomize the standards of female beauty. It cannot be escaped, though, that first impressions matter and that at these kinds of events we will each be noticing one another's appearance, especially if we have no one to sit with to distract us with awkward conversation.

After 6 minutes our host, Douglas, rang his silver bell with a heart for the handle and the men stood up and moved counter clockwise to the next woman. The very tall man sat next to me and introduced himself. When I introduced myself and told him my badge number he wrote my name down in the wrong section of the little packet of paperwork we were given at registration. Without thinking and without hesitation I pointed out that he should turn the page and fill out the next portion.

"You're a teacher, aren't you?" he asked.

That shut me up! One, because he wasn't far wrong and two because I had decided not to tell any of my "dates" that I am a youth minister. I hate to admit that, it still feels skeezy to have resolved to intentionally leave out that I work for the church. My experience here in the Bay Area, though, has taught me that it is not so sexy to be a Christian, especially a fanatic one who has actually sought out employment at a church! So, my plan was to simply avoid it all together and just tell them that I work for a not-for-profit in the city, which is true, if only in part. As one of my friends who was with me pointed out, "You don't have to let them know everything all at once." Right. I would be mysterious.

Or, at least, I was going to be until the giant point blank asked if I was a teacher. Of course an option would have been to say no because, in fact, I am not a teacher and just leave it at that. But my every impulse is to be honest, full disclosure is in my nature. Walking into the evening planning to conceal part of what I do, what I love, was already causing me too much anxiety. How could I not acknowledge how close his guess was to the truth? So I stuttered and hemmed and hawed and finally blurted out, "Well, not exactly. I do work with youth though. Why?"

"Because you just corrected me. You're obviously used to being in control and making sure things are done right."

Well damn.

More stuttering. I tried to tell him (the one prospect there who was even remotely promising!) that just because I pointed out the way the paperwork was meant to be used it was not an indicator that I am, by nature, critical and controlling. I tried. I did not succeed. I stammered. I faltered. I honestly do not know what, if anything, I actually said.

Finally he interrupted and asked what I do with youth.

Crap. I wasn't going to talk about that! "Um, I'm a youth minister at an Episcopal church."

He raised his eyebrows.

Yep, I should have kept my mouth shut. Note to self: learn how to lie. At least a little.

"So...what do you do?"

This is representative of most conversations while speed dating. What do you do for work? What do you do for fun? Blah. Blah. Blah. By the end of the night I had said that I like to read and write so many times that I felt like I was rehearsing lines for a very boring play that no one, ever, should have to pay to sit through.

"Ok, I have to ask you my 'make it or break it' question. If you had a superpower what would it be?"

Unexpected. A bit unusual. Silly. Better than church for a first 6 minute conversation.

"Do you have any pets?"

This first conversation was the only one that evening that strayed from the script, save one, in which we discussed whether football or baseball was the better sport.

Douglas rang his bell and it was time to start over with someone new.

Much of the evening was unremarkable. To my surprise I found myself intentionally emphasizing that I am a youth minister at a Christian church in an effort to deter interest. One of the men literally blinked and shook his head in a very cartoonish way in astonishment when I told him.

"Minister? That means you must have a lot of training?"

I felt a little foolish when I had to answer "Well, no, actually. I suppose the term minister is misleading. I am not ordained. I didn't go to seminary."

"But you can quote the Bible?"

"Um, a little." I had to stop myself from laughing at how uncomfortable he was when he asked that and how uncomfortable I was in answering.

Another man moved here from China fifteen years ago. I asked if he goes back to China to visit regularly. He shook his head and looked at me like I was being ridiculous for asking that. "No, the last time I was there was 5 years ago."

"Wow. So is your family all in the states?"

"No."

"That must be hard. I moved here from Chicago a year ago and it's hard to be so far away from my parents and sisters. I miss my sisters very much."

"Really? Why?"

What kind of a question is that!? I tried not to let too much confusion be revealed in my face or tone as I answered, "Because I love my sisters. I want them to move here."

"Oh...well, Sara, besides loving your sisters what do you like to do for fun?"

Really?

Really!?

Next please!


This was the second time I had been speed dating. I had fun. I would do it again. It is not, however, where I anticipate meeting someone to have a lasting, meaningful relationship with.

Adventures in Dating

I officially entered the world of online dating this week with one of the most ridiculous and awkward first dates. My excitement for the date largely stemmed from his height being over 6’5”. Perhaps I have finally learned that there are more important things in a man than his being very tall?

From the very beginning we got off to a bad start on Tuesday when he arrived 2 hours late with no apologies. Now, to be fair, when he said he’d be at the North Berkeley BART station between 2:30-3:30 I perhaps should have suspected him to be less than prompt. However, not wanting to keep him waiting, I got to the station right at 2:30. I sat on a bench, pulled out my book and offered thanks for such a beautiful day. At 3:00 I received an e-mail from my date informing me he was running late and probably wouldn’t be there until 3:30 or 4:00. I sighed. At least I had a good book to keep me occupied (I was reading Jane Austen’s Persuasion). At 4:30 I started getting a bit anxious. Did he get off at the Downtown Berkeley stop instead of the North Berkeley stop? Was I being stood up? Should I just call it a day and head home?

As I was getting ready to leave he came rounding the corner. He explained that he ended up driving from San Francisco and that there was more traffic than he anticipated on the Bay Bridge. He then stopped, shook my hand and said “I’m Sam” (his name has of course been changed). I smiled and said “Nice to meet you, I’m Sara.” His response was “Yes, I think we’ve established that.” I’m still not sure what to make of that. At the time I just gave a little laugh and suggested we head to the café. Our walk to the café was unremarkable. Actually, I can’t really even remember what exactly we talked about. I had been so nervous and uncertain about meeting someone from the internet and after a less than stellar first impression I mostly remember feeling relieved and much more up to the task than I had initially credited myself being, even if there was some disappointment about the person himself.

We arrived at Café Leila. I ordered a decaf latte (it was 5:00 at this point, after all!) and he ordered jasmine lemonade and a sandwich. I suggested we sit outside, which was almost the entire reason I wanted to go to Café Leila. He hesitated and said he didn’t want to sit in direct sunlight. Ok, so did he want to sit inside? Well…as long as we could sit in the shade, we should be ok. We found a spot under a large umbrella and sat.

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m just a bit of a vampire.”

“Oh, do you mean you burn easily?”

“Well, that and I like to drink blood.”

Uncomfortable laughter.

“But don’t worry not human blood…at least, not usually.”

My smile faltered. Surely he was kidding; I only wished he would indicate as much!

His sandwich arrived. I asked questions. He answered. He said “like” almost every other word, sometimes several times in a row. At one point I counted “like” 7 times! It was as if he was a CD with a scratch on it, skipping over and over. Perhaps I am being insensitive but having studied oral rhetoric I am pickier than most. Maybe he had a stutter. Maybe he was nervous. Either way it was distracting. 

I was bored.

At one point he randomly asked me if I babysat much when I was a teenager. Yes. Yes I did. Did he? A bit. Sometimes he was good at it sometimes, sometimes not. Mildly intrigued I asked him what he meant.

“Well, I babysat some girls in my neighborhood and I didn’t always…I mean boundaries were difficult…I mean, it’s a long story…”

He probably didn’t mean what it sounded like he could have meant but there were alarm bells going off inside my head at this. I work with young people and have gone through many training courses aimed at preventing sexual harassment and abuse his halting explanation did not entirely sit well with me.

When he was halfway through with his sandwich he interrupted me to apologize for “spacing out.” I had been totally unaware.

“I do that sometimes,” he explained, “when I’m digesting.”

“Oh, that’s ok,” I assured him, not quite sure at all.

When I asked what he did for work he confessed that he has been unemployed for a year and a half. He is currently trying to figure out what he wants to do next. Previously he worked as a computer programmer and, in an effort to explain why that’s not the best fit for his personality he asked if I am familiar with and believe in Myers-Briggs. I do. I told him that I am an ENFP.

“My mom is and ENFP. I think I can relate.”

Two things went through my mind at this moment. The first was, “I am NOT your mother.” I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting this out. The other was whether he would be able to relate to me as an ENFP if he didn’t know anyone else with this same personality type. I did not pursue either thought.

When he was finished with his food he sat back and said “I think I’m 90% done.” I glanced at his completely empty plate and glass. All I could do by way of response was to chuckle. “No, I’m just kidding, I think I’m done. I just need to digest.” Again with the digestion! 

“Ok, well would walking help you with that?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

I gathered my things and made to get up but he stopped me. 

“Actually, I think I just need to sit for a few minutes.” 

I settled myself back down. 

And we sat.

At last! We left the restaurant and headed back to the BART station. As we began walking he asked me what my “world vision” is. When I asked for clarification he asked what I believe about the universe. Again, I pressed for a more specific question. He explained that ENFPs tend to be idealists and he wanted to know if that was true of me. Yes, I am an idealist. I am passionate and care about many causes and issues but I have difficulty focusing or committing to one. I am distractable. For example, I love to write stories but I rarely finish them. I have a string of stories started and characters created but other than poems I couldn’t readily think of a completed project.

“I don’t really understand what you’re saying but I’ll try to relate.”

Is my experience really so unusual? I took a deep breath and quickened my steps, quite ready to be heading home alone.

When we were almost at the train station he told me his mom thinks he’s the second coming of Christ. I did not know what to say to this! “Don’t worry, I’m not. It was just a weird message to grow-up with.” Indeed.

We finally made it to the station and his waiting car. I wished him a safe trip home. He hoped I had a good rest of my day. We parted ways. I began to walk home a bit dazed, not quite sure what I had just sat through. However, as I started telling my sister Hannah about it I began laughing out loud as I strolled down University. It may not have been a successful match but I am still highly amused by the experience. I have a date on Saturday (obviously with someone else) and I am feeling much better prepared to tackle the beast that is online dating.