Wish me luck. Or a quick death. *Updated

So, Speed Dating tonight. Yep. In the City, at an event run by an outfit called Fast Impressions (Geddit?). Tonight has a theme, or a sub category: Fit and Healthy. I’m just hoping they let me in without making me do press ups, because, like, I can’t.
An update will follow. Possibly sooner than you expect if I have to flee precipitously…

*And now for the update…

I am undatable. That’s what I learned last night. I am friendly and funny and not so repellantly hideous that people hide children from my shadow but, nonetheless, I am undatable.

What leads me to this conclusion?

Well, let me see. I arrived early and had a nice chat with the ‘hostess’ (who was understandably bitter about having recently been made redundant from her day job and needed a sympathetic ear).

Then I chatted to a shortish Qantas pilot who was laughing along nicely until I stood up. Have I mentioned before that I’m 6′ tall in heels?

I spotted a small mousey girl who had also arrived alone and early and clearly had trouble looking at anyone or speaking above a whisper. I drew her over and introduced her to Pilot Guy. She said she worked in fashion, which surprised me, since I always imagined fashionistas would eat this kind of girl for breakfast. If they ate breakfast, which they don’t, because you can’t eat and stay stick-thin over the age of 25.

Anyway, the dates began – there were 12 women and 12 men, aged between 32 and 42, and none were noticeably buff. *Sigh of relief mingled with disappointment from moi*

The women stayed seated and the men had to move onto the next table after 8 minutes, every time Bitter Hostess thumped her faux bronze gong.

I thought I did okay. No awkward silences, frantically scrambling for something to say or ask. Plenty of laughter and ‘at ease’ body language. Nobody jumped up to leave my table in unbecoming haste as soon as the gong tolled.

One of the men was even rather interesting (though he didn’t look as though he did much in the way of physical activity), he’s a trauma surgeon and we had a good chat and laugh together during the date and the break.

He was the only one I ticked, indicating that I would be interested in seeing him again. No dreds and no tats, but one can’t have everything and at least he could string a sentence together.

But did the bugger tick me? No, he fucking didn’t.

Grrrrrrr.

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19 Responses to Wish me luck. Or a quick death. *Updated

  1. piereth says:

    Wow! I hope it was a right laugh! I’m actually really tempted by this… the same skills are needed for speed dating as for those blood-letting sales interview / mini gladiatorial contests where they lock all the candidates in a room with a flipchart and two pens and only the strongest survive. My strategy was always to grab both the pens and run the flipchart.

    As you are the epitome, the very quintessence of fit and healthy I’m sure you captured the flag in fine style. Tell all! Or was it an ‘I’ll get my coat’ moment?? πŸ˜‰

  2. azahar says:

    Ooooo, can’t wait for the update!

  3. Ed says:

    can you go dressed as your favourite animal? that would be a good theme. although *you* might be indecisive, you could instantly identify likely peers…

  4. So, how did it go? Personally, I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be in the dating pool. At my age, the prospect terrifies me. I have told Jim that he has to outlive me so I won’t ever have to deal with it.

  5. I actually quite like the speed dating concept … I always know in five minutes whether I want to bother with continuing a conversation, so the idea of not being stuck for much longer than that is appealing to me. πŸ™‚ Do keep us updated!

  6. That sounds kinda scary, but good luck with that. You scuba dive and bush walk and spend your weekends going boating, you’re a poster child for fit and active. Puh-lease. Maybe there will be a scuba diving man with dreadlocks. I hope so! I actually thought of you the other day when I got a little weak in the knees for a man with a pink mohawk. He sure looked nice.

  7. azahar says:

    Do you also get to do speed breakups?

  8. modestypress says:

    I figure speed dating means engaged by 10 am, wed by noon and divorced by 3 pm.

  9. truce says:

    Piereth – my strategy was also to capture both pens, but I always rather lost interest in the flip chart after about 10 minutes. I basically just wanted the pens. πŸ˜‰

    azahar – you can stop holding your breath now! And speed break ups have never been a problem!

    Ed – oddly, one chap asked me what my favourite animal was and when I said ‘cat’ he replied: “I hate cats.” Excellent.

    healingmagichands – if you can figure out a way to clone Jim and send him over here while you’re at it, that would be great! πŸ˜‰

    David – yes, the concept appealed to me, too. And I enjoyed it more than I was expecting – it wasn’t a trial, at least. However, the reality of being undatable has somewhat taken the shine off.

    Waxingstrange – oh yes, a pink mohawk would definitely get my admiring attention, too!

    Mr Random – it was more: home alone by 10pm, undatable by noon and planning a massacre by 3pm…

  10. Drat, drat. You’re not undatable. You’re great. Men are just mostly idiots about that sort of thing. Perhaps they were intimidated by your wit and good looks.

  11. piereth says:

    Trauma surgeon? I couldn’t date a man who spent his time rummaging in broken people for a living.

    You are not undatable. You are not undatable!!!!! Have you thought about learning to surf? Plenty of tats and dreads there… the conversation might not be up to much but the buff will be up to snuff, lol!

  12. Fugitive Pieces says:

    Not bloody undateable. 12 men, only one of whom you liked, and he just didn’t find you sufficiently traumatised to need his services. (Fule). That’s not proof of undateability, that’s an average drinks party plus an annoying questionnaire.
    Also, kudos for the kindness to the Bitter Hostess and the Small Fashionista. Your karmic award points will soon be flying you to the moon. I realise that this is teeth-grindingly small comfort, but still…

  13. If *I’m* dateable, then you surely are. I mean … c’mon. πŸ™‚

  14. pandemonic says:

    I hardly think you’re undatable.

  15. truce says:

    Gawd bless you all. Still feeling undatable, though marginally less so. πŸ˜‰

    Waxingstrange – somehow I doubt it! πŸ˜‰

    Piereth – “I couldn’t date a man who spent his time rummaging in broken people for a living.” Excellent point. And I am considering learning to surf – I have a friend here whose fiance is a surf instructor. Only trouble is, at the weekends I wanna be diving…

    Fugitive Pieces – “That’s not proof of undateability, that’s an average drinks party plus an annoying questionnaire.” LOL How right you are.

    David – the evidence is against you.

    Pandemonic – see above.

  16. I stand by what I said. He just hasn’t crossed your path yet. All joking with Mr. Random aside, if you lived anywhere near me, I would have dated you by now. So there.

  17. I am sorry about the undateable thing. I for one have never understood why men cared how tall women were, but then I am a nice average 5’6″. My own son has chosen (horribly unwisely) TWICE now on the basis of the little chicky being shorter than he, and cute. I have told him that I will believe that he has actually found the right girl for him when he stops being height-ist and dates someone who is taller than him.

  18. I don’t know … it seems to me that women are more likely to be heightist than men are. I have very tall female cousins who always wanted to date men taller than they were; I never quite understood why.

  19. truce says:

    David – thank you for saying so, that makes me feel better somehow.

    Healingmagichands – that’s interesting. I’ve mostly found the opposite to be true, that men who are shorter than me are attracted purely because I’m taller. One even said (only half joking) that he was determined to improve the height gene in the next generation by having taller kids!

    David – I can’t speak for all tall women, but for me, it has to do with the fact that shorter men make me feel like a huge, gangling heffalump. Having said that, being the tallest in a group of women has a similar effect. I suspect it has to do with being too visible, like the proverbial sore thumb.

    But I regularly remind myself that I had the best sex of my life while going out with a guy who was the same height as me. πŸ™‚

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