My excruciating speed dating follow-up

After going speed dating and finding a few prospective boyfriends, I decided to try and get to know one of the potentials a little better on a follow-up date. You would think after chatting to this man, lets call him Mr. X, for 4 minutes, I would be able to tell if a second date would be worthwhile or just an excruciating series of dating faux-pas. Once again I have found proof that first impressions are very deceptive. It all started when we met in a bar in Liverpool Street, London, on a (fairly) warm August day.

Despite the temperature, it certainly was not hot enough to explain his profuse sweating – especially as the bar we met it was heavily air-conditioned and the drink he was drinking was heavily iced. Tentatively giving him a quick ‘hello’ peck on the cheek, I then attempted to ignore the fact he was sweating so much that he was starting to drip onto his shirt. When he got out his handkerchief in an attempt to discreetly wipe away the beads that were building up on his face and on the top of his bald head, I politely looked away and continued the fairly innocuous small talk in which we were indulging.

The next problem (and I keep a mental black mark list when I am on a date) was that he seemed unable to make eye contact with me, instead preferring to focus his gaze on an area lower than my face – notably my breasts. Now, I do understand that men, for some reason, have an inexplicable desire to gaze at a woman’s cleavage – but I believe it should be done in a discreet manner when said woman isn’t looking. Not, in the way my date insisted on doing, staring at them while making conversation. I wasn’t even wearing a low-cut top, instead choosing to wear my work outfit – a modest white shirt and pencil skirt - on the date.

There is no way to politely say, ‘Stop looking at my breasts’, so I decided to fiddle with the necklace I was wearing in the hope the movement would distract him and he would move his gaze up to meet my eyes. However, my hope for redeeming what was so far a pretty terrible date were completely dashed when Mr. X decided to make a comment about the size of my cleavage. I gave a tight smile, said thank you and attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction. This also backfired, as the conversation drifted onto Mr. X’s next favourite topic other than breasts – himself.

After an excruciating two hours of small talk (I do like to give a date a proper go, and don’t like to leave before two hours) and hearing about Mr. X’s work-related crises, I decided to excuse myself from what had turned out to be a fairly horrifying date. And then came the point – the point I hate after any bad date – the goodbye.

The awkwardness of this moment cannot really be explained to anyone who has not experienced it themselves. I am always baffled by how the date thinks a ‘goodnight kiss’ is a good idea when the date had gone as badly as this one.

As we approached my train platform, Mr. X leaned towards me – clearly heading for my mouth. I quickly turned my head, and then came an awkward headbutt/kiss on the cheek. After an equally awkward goodbye chat, and his promise to call me, I boarded my train to go home – disappointed by the way the evening had progressed, but equally as determined that these evenings are merely obstacles on the path to finding my Mr. Right.

Speed dating: a fun evening or a hellish night?

Combine 20 reasonably attractive men, alcohol, a nice club and a variety of four minute conversation and what do you get? Speed dating!

I decided to try my luck at one of the ever-regular events to see how true it is that you make your mind up about someone within the first three minutes of meeting them. Having been to a couple of speed dating events before, the thing that I was most nervous about was the length of the ‘dates’ – four minutes seemed to be an awfully long time compared to the two or three minutes I had experienced before. However, after hearing the statistics of 43,516 matches and nine marriages through Slow Dating, the company I chose to go through, from last year alone – I thought it was worth a shot.

Entering the exclusive and glamorous Orchid bar just by Piccadilly Circus, it was soon clear to see that other people were having the same thoughts. The variety of people who attend these sorts of events is immense – from suave businessman who aim for the ‘just come from work’ look to drunken louts only looking for one thing.

The evening starts with an explanation from the hosts, before the bell rings and the dates begin.

The first date is always awkward – stilted conversation and the obvious questions ‘What do you do?’ and ‘Where are you from?’ are never fun, but by the third date I found I was quickly becoming more comfortable and I started to relax. Lubricated by a couple of glasses of wine, I smiled, giggled and flirted outrageously with my dates, hoping to hit it off with at least a couple.

What is incredible is the different people you can meet in one evening. Whether there is a spark or not, the majority of the men are incredibly attentive, and even if you don’t get a further few dates out of the evening, you certainly make friends. By the end of the night – which, undoubtedly, is exhausting – I thought I may receive a few matches, but was unsure how many I would follow up.

For research purposes, I decided to tick all of my dates to see who ticked me back (you can only see who ticks you if you tick them). To my surprise, out of the 18 men who have so far entered their matches, I received a total of eight matches. As well as a bit of an ego boost, the matches give you scope to follow up the matches with real dates, and who knows where that can lead?

So, is speed dating all it’s cracked up to be? Well, in terms of a fun evening, good company and a lot of laughs, yes it is. But in terms of finding your true love - I’ll let you know!