Aidan Fortune told us that he was sick of Dublin’s dating scene. Young, handsome and perfectly charming, he just couldn’t find the right girl.So we sent him off to try speed dating.
You see her across the dancefloor. You look at her, she looks at you. Both of you smile and you think ‘Oh yes!’ Acting as coolly as possible, you bump and grind your way across to her. The DJ seems to know what’s going on – he plays the perfect sexy song. You lean in to introduce yourself and maybe say something charming, but she beats you to the punch.
“Me fella’s outside havin’ a smoke. Hurry up if yer gonna do anthen.”
You plaster a smile onto your face and slowly grind your way back to the corner as she necks another Blue WKD and starts hugging the bouncer.
Does this sound familiar?
Perhaps the nightclub route isn’t the best way to meet someone in this city. If you think about it, forming lasting relationships in clubs is a contradiction. Irish culture is based around drinking and bars, but if you’ve been out since 7pm and are feeling tired, how can you be at your best when it comes to forming an opinion on someone? Emotions are running high, your judgement (and possibly your vision) is impaired. If it’s late in the night and all of your friends have pulled, then it may just be a case of cutting your losses and heading towards the nearest ten-to-two girl. Sure, you may not marry her, but hey – it beats going home alone.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that it’s impossible to meet someone in a club and enter into a serious and loving relationship. I did. I met a girl in a nightclub famous for meeting people and we went out for four years.
But recently, I decided that I had spent enough time on the post-relationship sidelines and I was ready to get back into the game. The Dublin club scene seemed to have passed me by (even though I’m only 25), so I went looking for an alternative way to meet people.
Deciding that clubs and pubs are not the way to meet someone is one thing – finding that alternative route is another matter entirely. Maybe it’s just me but I can’t see myself chatting someone up in the local library or in the queue in Tesco. Meeting someone over the internet poses all manner of problems, especially when a 50-year-old man turns up at your door claiming to be a cheerleader from Florida. Not that it’s ever happened to me of course. (He didn’t look a day over 40.) Sleaze aside, the internet did provide me with the best idea for something different – speed dating.
My sister had tried it before and enjoyed it, so I thought, why not? After convincing The Dubliner to record the experience, it was really game on. I couldn’t back out now. I went with www.speeddater.ie as it was the closest event and booking seemed straight-forward enough.
When I told my friends, the initial reaction of some was to laugh; others were supportive. Surprisingly, a lot of people offered to come along with me. Perhaps everyone secretly wants to go speed dating, but are too nervous or embarrassed.
As the night approached, I started to get nervous and I did consider backing out. I wasn’t working on the day itself, which meant I had plenty of time to think about what could go wrong. I could unknowingly insult every girl there. I could accidentally leave my fly open. I could have something hanging off the end of my nose.
Despite the worries, I carefully made my preparations for the night. Luckily The Dubliner provided me with an extensive clothing budget so the new shirt and jeans I bought were top quality. So early Wednesday evening I showered, shaved, got dressed and headed out to meet my ladies.
As I waited at the bar for the speed dating to begin, I checked out the other contestants. I had arrived early and was, initially, the only guy there. At first glance it seemed that I was also the only person there alone. Maybe, I thought, I should have enlisted a wingman for the evening. Once the place filled up, I became one of a wall of guys on their own, pretending to check their phones and doing their best to look nonchalant. It would’ve been nice to have a mate there to at least pretend to laugh at your jokes. A friend also comes in handy for the breaks in the evening, but then the point of the exercise is to meet new people, not to stand there having a sneer with your mates (the other problem with bringing a wingman is that if the night goes particularly well for either you or your mate, you might have to take one for the team or else slink into the night as your friend scores. But such are the duties of a wingman.)
We all gathered in the main room. The organisers explained the process – four minutes with a total stranger, then the bell rings and you move onto someone else. A bit like a night in Copper Face Jacks, except with bells… The girls and guys are numbered one to 22 so you start off facing your corresponding number. When the four minutes are up, the gentlemen move to the next table and the next girl.
If you like someone, you mark it on your card with their name and number. There’s also space for a little comment on the person in case you need to jog your memory afterwards. Believe me, this is needed. Twenty-two dates in one night is intense stuff and a lot of information gets lost in the mix.
I was amazed at the talent at the event. There wasn’t one girl there who would have any problem pulling on a regular night. Some of them were students; others were friends from work, which meant pockets of teachers, nurses and solicitors.
For the first couple of dates, I was useless. At a double table I could hear the conversation going on beside you and I kept wondering how the other guy was doing it. He must, I thought, have a bottomless pit of charm, whereas I’m grinning inanely at my date, wondering if the man with the bell has fallen asleep.
Once you get into it, conversations flow and the stock questions become easier to ask. Tell me about yourself. What do you do for a living? What do you do for fun? What made you try speed dating?
I was the only journalist there – it provided an easy topic of conversation if things started to drag. For once, my choice of career was paying off. I also think that journalist stuck in people’s heads – from the sounds of things, most of the other guys were from “real” professions, so this was something different.
Something different definitely helps in this situation. It is information overload for everyone, so if you’re the cute journalist (someone else’s words, not mine), there’s a good chance that you’ll be remembered the next day.
I hope.
After three or four dates, it starts to get very interesting. You still ask the stock questions but if you feel a connection with someone, you’ll get into some flirting and some serious eye contact. I would have thought that four minutes is nowhere near enough to decide if you like someone or not, but apparently your mind is made up within three seconds, so the other three minutes, 57 seconds is really just laying the groundwork.
By the end of the dating, I was physically and mentally exhausted – I didn’t stick around too long afterwards. Plus, once everyone had taken off their name badges, I was at a complete loss for names and put my foot in it by calling a girl the wrong name. Smooth operator.
The next morning, everyone who attended the event received an email telling them to input their ‘ticks’ for the night. Once you input yours, you get to see how many of those people ticked you as a ‘Yes’ and also how many people altogether ticked you.
In the “voting” process, you can check out people’s profiles and get a reminder of who you met over the course of the evening. But to be honest, anybody with whom I felt a connection, I remembered their name anyway. You can then send your matches a “flirt” – which is basically an email – and from then on, it’s all up to you.
Overall I ticked seven people, but at the risk of sounding cocky, some of them were a bit generous. Not that they weren’t nice girls and good-looking, it’s just that I couldn’t see myself going on a “proper date” with some of them.
Of those seven, six ticked me back and overall I’m proud to say that I got 12 out of 22 yes ticks. In a study by the University of Pennsylvania, the average man is chosen by 34% of women at a speed dating event. My tally works out at 54.5%. Now I’m no math whiz, but by my calculations that means I’m almost two-thirds more attractive to the opposite sex than the average male. My head is starting to swell, which doesn’t usually happen after a Wednesday night out.
So have I met any of the people who said yes to me? This magazine went to press just a week after the event, so I couldn’t have gone on all 12 dates. But I did have time to arrange one. And how did it go?
Well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell...
Nice job Aiden! ... or should I call you Mr 54.5%?
Good article. Well written. Keep it up.
Norman
ps Good luck with the babes.
Posted by: Norman Cooper | January 15, 2008 at 16:49
Well! Very impressive, however, I do think you should have used one of your many excellent (and well worn) chat up lines to secure the deal. One does spring to mind, Tis it yourself thats in it, is it, Ha!!! VGL!
Posted by: Patricia McDonagh | May 02, 2008 at 06:41