I’ve recently been in a season of overcoming my fears.
When my friend Meg had originally asked me to participate in a "speed dating" event, I thought…no freaking way. I’m not putting myself out there for a group of 17 men. I’d rather be run over by a car, thank you very much.
I took about 24 hrs to think about it, and the more I considered it, the more I thought…well, there’s a first time for everything. If I can travel around the world, I can at least put on a cute dress and walk out my door. I mean, come on, where’s my sense of adventure? Funny, how it’s easier to do difficult things like navigate strange lands or go sky diving, but to spend an evening speed dating…what?? I still can’t believe I did it.
First of all, I need to clarify, that speed dating is not an event at all. Its more like a sport. You have two teams, men and women, a cow bell every six minutes, a score sheet to keep track of hits and misses, and a break at half time to quench your thirst. By the end of the evening, you are sweating and exhausted…from all the talking. So much talking.
The evening started off with a tall glass of white wine, a score sheet, and my glossed lips. Game on. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew is that I had 6 minutes to somehow figure out if I had a “connection” with someone.
The bell rings. Crap. Here we go.
The first guy comes to my table. I can’t even pronounce his name, nonetheless remember the country he’s from because I am so nervous. We start to casually talk about how long we’ve been in Beijing, what we are doing here, food we like. Safe. Decent. Ok, just getting warmed up. I realize, about 3 guys in, that I’m being too optimistic, and check the box on my score sheet “friend first, then date.” My results definitely became more skewed as the evening went on.
The fourth guy. Chinese. The only reason I remember him is because I was the one who was asking him all the questions. The first question he asked me, “So, what part of the States are you from?” (stab in the heart)
“Umm, I’m actually from Canada.”
“Oh, I can never tell the difference between those countries.” (stab in the heart)
Off to a great start with this one. He talked about himself the whole time. I made the mistake of asking him, “So, what do you do?” Let’s just say…I felt like I was an interviewer on tv. I was asking all the questions. I found out he is a boxer. He’s been doing this for 10 years. He studied sports science or something fancy like that in university. He loves to work out. He’s proud of the bruise on this left arm. He had to get stiches during a match in university. Blah.Blah.Blah. No.Thank.You. I’ve exhausted my list of “wh” questions. I soon learn the beauty of this event is that you realize who will make the cut…and who won’t. The 6 minutes can go by either in the blink of an eye or painfully slow. If someone gave me a pencil…I would be poking my eyes out at this point.
Next in line, was an anthropologist from England. Very cool. Finally, a conversation I think I can really sink my teeth into. He’s lived in 5 different countries over the past 5 years. The conversation is flowing as we exchange travels we’ve been on, talk about Chinese culture or interests we have. All of a sudden the bell rings. Damn. I quickly tick the “friends first then date later” option on my score card. Cautiously optimistic.
Guy Number 8. Oh Guy Number 8. He looks, well, older. So, I figure, I’ll humour him and get through the 6 minutes. He works in computers or something in Beijing. He’s been here 8 years. Making it over 5 years in this country is a feat in itself. He then drops the bomb, “Look, I gotta be honest with you…I’m married and I’ve got a kid at home. I just thought this was an event to meet people.” Umm..I’m thinking… Did you get the memo that said, “Speed DATING?” Dating. DATE-ING. There is one minute left…I try to conjure up something to say…this comes out: “Ummm…ok…so, how’s that working out for you?” First time to check the “not a match” option on my sheet. Definitely not a match. No hesitation there. All cautious optimism shattered at this point.
Half time…or…ahem…break time. I feel as though I need someone to throw a bucket of cold water on myself, get a coach to massage my shoulders or help me figure out my game plan for the next round. I quickly de-brief with Meg. We decide to allow ourselves to float over to the bar to partake in a beverage. We compare notes, while trying to remember who was who, and enjoying a quick orderve…the bell rings again.
I should explain that the women, all 17 of us, were sitting around perimeter of the restaurant. We stay put for the evening, every six minutes the guys rotate. I mentioned to the next guy who appeared at my table, Marcus, from South Africa, that I like how the guys are all coming to us, and he replies, “Yeah, and the girls are just waiting for us at our beck and call.” Ummm…I mentally check the “just friends” option…joke or not…I’m not at your beck and call, Mister. Next please.
Next guy, a fun easygoing English teacher from the UK, someone I think I will be able to relate too. We share funny stories about teaching in Asia, discuss favourite hidden spots in Beijing, and then as we continue talking, he reveals the most hilarious story about helping one of his 6 year old students go to the washroom, and I belt out a huge, top of my lungs, traffic-halting, well…yelp of a laugh. Mortified. Did he notice? Yep. I think he did. I think I just got the “not a match” box ticked on his score card. Well, an embarrassing moment had to happen at least once in the evening. I’m glad I got that over with.
The next few conversations seemed to whiz by, things are getting easier, questions don’t feel so unnatural, people are starting to loosen up more and not take things so seriously. Met a cool, rather strangly-looking chap from London, who teaches animation at a university in Beijing. I’m cooling my jets at this point. I begin to realize that it’s pretty cool to be sitting in a room, full of other expats like myself, all trying to meet people. There is a kind of buzz in the room. I take the pressure off myself and just continue to enjoy my now almost empty glass of wine, maintaining my composure quite well I must add.
Moving on further down the line to guy number 13. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Guy number 13. Now, he was unexpected. He shook my hand. Unassuming, sweet and super funny. A Brit. We soon found out that we had something in common…we both lived in Japan and now found ourselves now in Beijing. He reminded me of all the things I loved about this country. Six minutes went by in a mere second. Conversation was effortless. We laughed most of the time, carried on about this and that…time was up. This was way too much fun. After we parted, I quickly checked the “want to date” option on my score card. The four remaining men were kind of a blur after that.
Before I knew it, the evening came to a close. I write my contact info at the top of my score card and then hand it to the hosts of the evening who then calculate my score and find out who my “matches” are. By this point, I’m just glad the night is done. I wish I had some other language in my disposal, as English seems to fail me. I’ve never talked that much at once in my life.
Since that evening, I have received my results, which I think I’m going to keep to myself. But, all I can tell you is…I put up a good fight, I came and conquered, and maybe I’ll get a chance at the play offs.
