There it was. It
filled the dimly lit crowded Brazilian restaurant, desperation was
upon us. It was there in the group of men standing in the corner
waiting for a seat to open so they could talk with one of the three
women they were interested in. They stood around looking at these
women with more hunger then they did the okra, sliced sausage and
chicken under the heat lamps of the buffet behind them. I was no
different. On my last date, the girl ended up crashing her car into
a motorcycle parked a mere five feet behind her.
For the first few
minutes it was fun to just listen and observe. This whole macabre
social scene was like a Ralph Steadman drawing. All you could hear
were thirty conversations going on at once. This chatter blended
together to make up the white noise that filled this chicken coup of
the undatable. The place doubled as a sports bar which
explained the boxing match being projected on a large screen from a
vacant raised dining floor off to the side.
To be clear this
was my first time going to an event like this. I am struck by how it
all paints the picture of what being single is like. The women sit
at their tables waiting for the next man to move down the line and
take a seat. Like the brightly colored tail feathers of a male
peacock; the women sat patiently waiting for the men to impress them. It's a little thing called sexual selection; isn't nature grand? One of these guys waiting in the wings was Joey; a muscular gym rat
with dark curly hair who conveniently stuck his name tag sticker onto
the side of his right bicep. I was practically forced into a seat to
talk with the first lady of the evening. Asunti is a thirty-eight
year old banker who recently moved to Florida. “I've never been to
one of these before,” she says. It must be everyone's first time I
think. Asunti was a nice girl; it was clear from the beginning we
were incompatible. We had nothing in common and no physical
attraction to each other, yet we smiled and carried out a
conversation like two strangers coming out of the fog. I looked at
it like a practice round for the next encounter; who turned out to be
Victoria. She was a full figured red head with blue eyes and a
confidence about her. Victoria was the best this gathering had to
offer and she knew it. She formally served in the Navy and now works
as an accountant. She likes movies so I eagerly tell her about a
movie I made recently. Realizing that this is what made me unique
out of this pack of wolves, I focused on the film making.
There are countless
ways to make a bad first impression with a girl and I have
experienced enough of them first hand to know what to avoid. I tell
Victoria that I work in the entertainment department of a theme park
and she immediately asks about the free passes that come with the
job. When you get right down to it isn't that what a dating
transaction is all about; getting something in return from one
another? I tell her how leaving something behind that could live
long after you're dead is why I am happy to be an artist. Then just
as I'm about to tell her my theory that this is also why people have
children, the host of the event taps my shoulder. My time is up, I quickly move on after I say goodbye.
There is one more
girl I was hoping to meet, so I wait. I wait for the seat across
from the lady with the long blonde hair to be left bare. Then it
happens, I slowly walk up as she takes out her cellphone after being
left alone for only a few seconds. I approach the table and say
“That was close, you were almost alone for a whole minute”, as I
look down at my wrist for a watch that was not there. Katy smiles
and I take my seat. This girl is not what I expected, she is easy
going, a nursing student. This conversation is just like the one
with Victoria, only more hopeful. Katy stands and announces that she
has to use the restroom. I see a tall gift bag that hangs from her
arm. “It's a bottle of wine,” she says, “a prize for finding a
person with a matching number.” She was referring to the index
cards the host handed out to us at the door with a number written on
it. My number was 22; as in, if I was twenty-two I would probably
not be single and have to be here.
Before Katy walks
toward the bathroom I tell her “I'll hold the fort.” Did I
really just say that? Awww man. I think about things to say for a
while while I wait for her to return. I need to be prepared, I don't
want to screw this up. Three minutes go by and then everyone stands
in unison and charges toward the bar as if there was a pre-planned
signal to disperse that I must have missed. Still no sign of Katy, I
stay at the table as promised. Five minutes pass before I hit the
exit. Once outside I throw away my name tag with disdain, like a
nightclub wristband after an evening you will wake up to regret. This was my first time going to an event like this I thought, and it
is sure to be the last.
- Curt Wiser is the Writer/Director of the thriller Cam-Girl and author of the suspense novel Box Cutter Killer.
Tags: speed dating, Ralph Steadman, Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, love, romance, single life, bachelor
