So… I Tried Speed Dating

Shaking Off the Nerves

Signing up with a prominent speed dating company in New York City was easy enough (and surprisingly affordable). Getting over my nerves took a lot more work.

I truly had no idea what to expect, but if there’s one thing I did know, it’s that overthinking had been the bane of my existence before, and would be again if I let it. So, while some might’ve prepared by coming up with questions and opening lines, I decided that I would go with the flow. It wasn’t a job interview, after all — I was going out to (ostensibly) have fun.

The only preparation I did involved shaving, moisturizing, and picking an outfit. I wore my nicest sweater since it was a bit cold, black slacks, shoes halfway between casual and dress, and, to top it all off, the one piece of jewelry I own: a ring attached to a necklace. The ring bears the motto of Sir Francis Drake, the Latin phrase Sic Parvis Magna, which translates to “Greatness from Small Beginnings”. It’s the closest thing I have to a good luck charm, though I don’t necessarily put stock in luck.

From there, all that was left was getting to the venue on time — or 15 minutes early, as the organizer suggested. I arrived 20 minutes early just to have a bit of extra time to hit the head and remind myself how to breathe.

For the price I paid, the venue was pretty upscale: there was a bar, fancy couches and chairs, and enough space to throw a hell of a party. So far, though, there were only a few guys and one woman there (minus the hostess), making that space feel especially empty. I chose a seat removed from the others, collecting my thoughts and calming my nerves in the final minutes before things got started.

With 10 minutes left to go, everyone else started showing up. I was relieved to find I was one of the better-dressed men (a potential advantage?), but disheartened that the guy-girl ratio was disproportionately in favor of the former. The final count: 10 men, 6 women.

After grabbing a cocktail from the bar, one of the women sat on the edge of the couch right next to my chair. I’d stuffed my phone in my bag (a nice writer’s satchel rather than my usual backpack) earlier, wanting to take everything in, but she was the first of the women I saw up close. And…

Wow. She was gorgeous.

As she removed her jacket and revealed a black, form-fitting dress, my brain went into overdrive — but I took hold of my senses. Breathed. Smiled. My younger self might’ve shrunk back or even switched seats, but I wasn’t my younger self anymore. There was still a bit of time before the event got started, so I took the initiative.

“First time?” I asked, leaning slightly toward her to account for the copious dead space in the room. The poor acoustics almost encouraged closeness.

She looked right at me, sending a genuine-looking smile my way as she, too, leaned forward. “Yeah. You?”

“Yep. Just sitting here, pretending not to be nervous.”

Thankfully, she laughed. “Me too.”

“Ignore my name tag.” It had my legal name on it, which is long and unpronouncable. I extended a hand. “Call me Benny.”

She took it. “Chiara.” (Not her real name, because privacy counts for something. None of the names used except mine are real.) “What brings you here, Benny?”

“Same thing as everyone else, I imagine: I got tired of the apps.” Everyone I knew called dating apps ‘the apps,’ so I figured she’d know what I meant.

Nodding sagely, Chiara hit me with another killer smile. “Same. It’s like, what’s the point, right? Just sitting there and swiping feels so…”

“Depressing?”

“Yeah! Really, really depressing.” She gestured to the room, where others had begun mingling as well. “So I wanted to try this out. Even though it feels kinda lame.”

“Maybe so, but wouldn’t you say sitting there and swiping through an app is even more lame?”

“You’re so right,” she said with a giggle. I knew I wasn’t saying anything particuarly funny, so maybe her smiles and laughs were nervous habits, or maybe she was just a people person, or maybe I could let myself believe I’d caught her eye. She had sat next to me, after all, and her body language indicated she wanted to talk. “At least here we get to meet real people with real intentions. Like, I go to bars and stuff, read books in public — very friendly and inviting, y’know? But people don’t really meet like that anymore.”

My first instinct was to tell her I met my first girlfriend in person, but, pro tip: don’t talk about previous relationships when you’re trying to find your next one. Ever! “Yeah. I guess that’s why we’re here.”

“Guess so.”

We continued speaking until…

Go! Go! Go!

The hostess rang a bell. “Alright, people, let’s get this party started! There are more guys than girls, so guys, you’re gonna have a few breaks in between. Girls stay in place, and guys move. Let’s get you organized.”

She asked all the men to stand so she could arrange us accordingly; luckily, I got to stay where I was. So did Chiara. That meant we could continue from where we left off — sort of. We kept talking while the hostess had everyone play musical chairs. It felt a little like cheating, but then, I’d taken the initiative, so it felt earned all the same.

Once the hostess rang the bell again, the speed dating event began in earnest. Ten minutes to talk, then guys moved to the left while the girls stayed put.

Rapid-fire conversation was never really my style. I take things (read: all things) slow. So now that the pressure was on, I thought my nerves would take hold once again.

I think, though, because I was already feeling comfortable and relatively confident with Chiara, my nerves decided to hang back. Eye contact wasn’t a problem. I kept my body language open. And, yes, I allowed myself to have fun.

Here’s a rundown of each conversation:

Chiara: We flowed right from our pre-date talk into our limited 10 minutes with ease. Our conversation ranged from the drudgery of dating apps to the wonders of island biogeography. Biased though I am because of the extra time we had, it was my favorite conversation of the night. When I went on my first break right after, it was hard not to eavesdrop on the next guy who spoke with her.

Abigail: Initially jarring because of how similar she looked to my brother’s first girlfriend, this conversation wasn’t as stimulating, but fun because of our mutual interests (writing and baking, specifically). Even though I could tell things wouldn’t go anywhere romantically, I refused to check out and kept talking as if making a new friend.

Jolene: The first dud of the night. My nerves surged back up like bad acid reflux, evident in my awkward body language. She laughed when I joked about it, but this conversation was over before it started. I scrabbled for purchase and was sitting too close to her, yet too embarrassed to move away. My bad, Jolene.

Natalia: After another break, I was back on my game with Natalia. I showed I was relaxed by leaning my arm over the couch and maintaining a friendly demeanor. Despite Chiara being my favorite conversation, this one was probably the most interesting. We talked about her home country, why English is a sucky language, and what it’s like being nearly 30 years old. And for the record, Natalia was, by my reckoning, the most physically attractive woman in the room.

Alma: Alma was quite a looker herself, and our conversation went well. I even wrote the name of a small Italian town I thought she should visit on her upcoming trip to Europe on the back of her match card — though, embarrassingly, I had to borrow her pen to do it. I’d been fidgeting with mine and irretrievably dropped it between the couch cushions.

Casey: “Save the best for last” did not apply here. From the beginning to the end of these 10 minutes, the depletion of my social battery was on full display; desperate attempts to cover it up only made things worse. I craved the hostess’ bell more than ever before, and I have no doubt Casey felt the same way.

Since there was technically one rotation left but no more women to speak with, my last 10 minutes were spent on break, cooling down, and reflecting. Eventually, though, the hostess rang the final bell and told us how things would go down:

“Time’s up! Hope you all had fun. You’re welcome to hang out in the lounge for as long as you like. Either way, you’ll be receiving an email tonight with instructions on how to proceed. Then you’ll find out who you matched with tomorrow. Good night, and good luck.”

What Comes Next?

My first thought once the hostess concluded her spiel: find Chiara and speak with her more.

But… there were two reasons I didn’t.

First off, though speed dating is an in-person affair, it does share a match system with the apps. You make your first impression at the event, choose your matches that night, and see what happens. Fair’s fair.

Second, she was chatting it up with Abigail and Casey. Far be it for me to interrupt the trio, especially to progress things with Chiara only.

So, I made a quick pit stop and headed home.

I got back at around 11 PM and figured the email would be waiting for me, but it didn’t come until 1:30 AM, by which time I was drooping from exhaustion. I’d committed to not taking the train to dreamland until I chose my matches, and now here we were.

Rubbing the crust from my eyes, I logged into my profile on the company’s site and considered my choices. I already knew who I’d choose, but with all the time I had for second thoughts, I figured I’d run through the list again.

Here were my choices:

Chiara ✔️

Abigail ❌

Jolene ❌

Natalia ✔️

Alma ✔️

Casey ❌

And here, the next morning, was how it all shook out:

Chiara ❌

Abigail ❌

Jolene ❌

Natalia ✔️

Alma ❌

Casey ❌

A match! Not with Chiara, but hey, I liked Natalia, too.

From there, it was up to us to contact each other; the company shared matches’ phone numbers with the other person. So, taking the initiative as I did when speaking with Chiara before the event started, I texted Natalia about setting up a date. She agreed, so the rest is up to us.

The Roundup

So… speed dating? Turns out it’s pretty damn fun. I’d do it again in a heartbeat (and will if things don’t go anywhere with Natalia).

The big advantage — or disadvantage, depending — is being able to interact in person rather than through a screen. It might sound obvious, but it makes an astronomical difference in every conceivable way.

Of course, you can never know what anyone’s thinking. You can, however, put your best foot forward. Dress well. Eat beforehand. Brush your teeth. Smell nice. Be nice.

And if you mess up, as I did with Jolene and Casey? Pick up and move on — literally. Six chances in one night might not seem like much compared to endless swiping on the apps, but quality over quantity was never truer.

As long as you’re willing to pay (the company I signed up with charged a mere $35 for the event) and have a decent set of clothes, give it a shot. All those tropes bouncing around your head from Hollywood depictions of speed dating probably come from somewhere, but I can tell you I experienced none of them personally. I looked my Sunday best, I had fun, and I got a match.

Success.