Sex, Goth and Rock n Roll Speed Dating
November 20th 2006 21:50
I tried my hand at speed dating last week and lived to tell the tale...
I arrived a few minutes before the 8.00pm kick-off and made a beeline for the bar. Knocking back each of Seven Deadly Sins themed cocktails alphabetically was surely going to help soothe the nerves.
Taking our names, organisers gave us the essential equipment for the night – by now I’ve been reduced to a seat number - with breasts - let me explain.
A Speed Dating virgin, I’d agonized over what to wear to this auspicious event for like, hours. Being more rock than goth, I abandoned my black jeans and t-shirt idea at the last moment with a wave of va va voom inspired madness and decided to get out the big guns. Armed with my deadliest accessories, I stepped out with lashings of cleavage. Frankly with that sort of approach, I wouldn’t have to worry about much else. Personality? Who needs it?
And so to an evening of cheeky and cheerful chats with 13 - count ‘em - single men - most of who were friendly and fun. The concept was simple, a 5-minute meet and greet with a bell for time keeping. Snooze you lose, smile you dial, flirt you squirt - you get the picture.
A few dozen drinks in, a full house of singletons, and the organisers rallied us together to give us a brief overview of what the hell we’d let ourselves in for.
In a manner befitting the most traditional courting etiquette, girls got to perch upon their thrones and hold court while the guys did the legwork and grooved from table to table.
So the mission begins.... Date One introduces himself. A key factor for me was personality and body language. Within seconds of sitting down, it was game on. I wondered how long it would take him – I recognized the inward mantra - `…Don’t look at her boobs. Don’t look at her boobs. Don’t look at her boobs.` 5..4..3..2..1.. and there it was – the oh so familiar nose dive. But wait, this was no quick cheat ‘n peek – it was a full on ogle. And he didn’t let up for the whole 5 minutes. Who knows what he even said to me? Who cares? It was embarrassing. Time to whip out the scorecard and decide his fate - Date, Mate or Ditch – you guessed it.
Another hefty slug of my drink before launching into Date Two and things start to look up, well eyeball wise anyway. Likewise with Date Three, Four Five and Six who all had no trouble keeping the conversation flowing after the obligatory, ‘Are you single?’ question – mine - designed to sort out the cheaters from the keepers. Most of them even managed to maintain eye contact with just a bit of cheeky cleavage grazing, well except for one guy who seemed like he had a tick with the frenzied eye darts downwards.
But all in all, it was pretty easy going and not too many pregnant pauses before the bell toiled. A fifteen-minute break allowed us to get more well oiled for Round 2, a rum soaked blur where thanks to the 2 for 1 cocktails, everybody had their giggle goggles on.
My next lot of dates were a variety of the eccentric (well it was a Goth theme); charming (you know who you were); fanciable (though the way you covered your mouth when I asked if you were single suggested you were L.Y.I.N.G; and with the exception of just one very strange, tense, heavily accented man who made no eye contact - all courteous and eager to please.
Finally it’s over. It’s been a long night. It’s actually more taxing than you’d think. You’ve got to concentrate on what to say and then watch out when you ask questions like, “What’s the craziest thing you ever did?”
“Had a 3 way sex orgy” boasted Big Jim the butcher – er thanks Jim. But the real problem with those questions was that you had to be prepared to blurt out your own story in return, not so easy if you didn’t have Jim’s honesty gene.
The more pedestrian probings ranged from questions about professions, passions and pastimes, only occasionally were there cringeful moments (like the guy who insisted on telling me all about his clingy girlfriend of 3 years and why he had to dump her – bzzt you lose).
So with the interview part over, speed dating is complete. All that remained was to hand back the scorecards, and decide whether to stick around for the opportunity to hit on anyone you fancied.
The results were emailed through a few days later. We’d had a choice to tick ‘See Again’ or ‘Friends Only’. Since I didn’t meet the man of my dreams, I’d ticked the ‘Friends Only’ column and discovered that I’d made 11 new potential mates out of it.
So what did I learn? Speed dating is fun - whether you’re going for laughs, lust or lurve. I’d do it again in a flash. And granted a couple of the guys were clearly part of the Ogling Breasts Makes Men Live Longer society and to those guys I’d say - don’t’ be a tit - speed dating is loaded enough already and it’s only made more awkward when the eye sneaks breastward at every opportunity. My advice if I may, is that if you identify with that particular problem - wear a neck brace.
I arrived a few minutes before the 8.00pm kick-off and made a beeline for the bar. Knocking back each of Seven Deadly Sins themed cocktails alphabetically was surely going to help soothe the nerves.
Taking our names, organisers gave us the essential equipment for the night – by now I’ve been reduced to a seat number - with breasts - let me explain.
A Speed Dating virgin, I’d agonized over what to wear to this auspicious event for like, hours. Being more rock than goth, I abandoned my black jeans and t-shirt idea at the last moment with a wave of va va voom inspired madness and decided to get out the big guns. Armed with my deadliest accessories, I stepped out with lashings of cleavage. Frankly with that sort of approach, I wouldn’t have to worry about much else. Personality? Who needs it?
And so to an evening of cheeky and cheerful chats with 13 - count ‘em - single men - most of who were friendly and fun. The concept was simple, a 5-minute meet and greet with a bell for time keeping. Snooze you lose, smile you dial, flirt you squirt - you get the picture.
A few dozen drinks in, a full house of singletons, and the organisers rallied us together to give us a brief overview of what the hell we’d let ourselves in for.
In a manner befitting the most traditional courting etiquette, girls got to perch upon their thrones and hold court while the guys did the legwork and grooved from table to table.
So the mission begins.... Date One introduces himself. A key factor for me was personality and body language. Within seconds of sitting down, it was game on. I wondered how long it would take him – I recognized the inward mantra - `…Don’t look at her boobs. Don’t look at her boobs. Don’t look at her boobs.` 5..4..3..2..1.. and there it was – the oh so familiar nose dive. But wait, this was no quick cheat ‘n peek – it was a full on ogle. And he didn’t let up for the whole 5 minutes. Who knows what he even said to me? Who cares? It was embarrassing. Time to whip out the scorecard and decide his fate - Date, Mate or Ditch – you guessed it.
Another hefty slug of my drink before launching into Date Two and things start to look up, well eyeball wise anyway. Likewise with Date Three, Four Five and Six who all had no trouble keeping the conversation flowing after the obligatory, ‘Are you single?’ question – mine - designed to sort out the cheaters from the keepers. Most of them even managed to maintain eye contact with just a bit of cheeky cleavage grazing, well except for one guy who seemed like he had a tick with the frenzied eye darts downwards.
But all in all, it was pretty easy going and not too many pregnant pauses before the bell toiled. A fifteen-minute break allowed us to get more well oiled for Round 2, a rum soaked blur where thanks to the 2 for 1 cocktails, everybody had their giggle goggles on.
My next lot of dates were a variety of the eccentric (well it was a Goth theme); charming (you know who you were); fanciable (though the way you covered your mouth when I asked if you were single suggested you were L.Y.I.N.G; and with the exception of just one very strange, tense, heavily accented man who made no eye contact - all courteous and eager to please.
Finally it’s over. It’s been a long night. It’s actually more taxing than you’d think. You’ve got to concentrate on what to say and then watch out when you ask questions like, “What’s the craziest thing you ever did?”
“Had a 3 way sex orgy” boasted Big Jim the butcher – er thanks Jim. But the real problem with those questions was that you had to be prepared to blurt out your own story in return, not so easy if you didn’t have Jim’s honesty gene.
The more pedestrian probings ranged from questions about professions, passions and pastimes, only occasionally were there cringeful moments (like the guy who insisted on telling me all about his clingy girlfriend of 3 years and why he had to dump her – bzzt you lose).
So with the interview part over, speed dating is complete. All that remained was to hand back the scorecards, and decide whether to stick around for the opportunity to hit on anyone you fancied.
The results were emailed through a few days later. We’d had a choice to tick ‘See Again’ or ‘Friends Only’. Since I didn’t meet the man of my dreams, I’d ticked the ‘Friends Only’ column and discovered that I’d made 11 new potential mates out of it.
So what did I learn? Speed dating is fun - whether you’re going for laughs, lust or lurve. I’d do it again in a flash. And granted a couple of the guys were clearly part of the Ogling Breasts Makes Men Live Longer society and to those guys I’d say - don’t’ be a tit - speed dating is loaded enough already and it’s only made more awkward when the eye sneaks breastward at every opportunity. My advice if I may, is that if you identify with that particular problem - wear a neck brace.
| 163 |
| Vote |
Comment by KylieW
Celebrity Obsession
Comment by Bill
Pretty self centered there i would say.
Why the hell do CHICKs yes theres that word, and used well in this conversation, why do chicks love to bash us for only doing what we are told to do .
I mean if you wear a shirt to intentionally show off your clevage, YES WE ARE |GOING TO STARE AT IT !!! .
#2 YOUR AT A BAR !!!! Would you goto a nearest dump to buy some new clothes? NO!! so why goto cest pool to pick up a mate realizing THATS WHAT WERE THERE FOR!!! men think about sex every 2 seconds look it up i read that somewhere not just throwing crap at you. If you want a guy who doesnt stare at your tits goto a church and pick up preachers even then GL w/ that .
Anyways have fun w/ your man bashing thing there .