Come with a smile and an open mind. Upon arrival at one of our Speed Dating events, you will be greeted by our friendly hosts who will check you in. You will receive your nametag and interest card.
Your host will give a welcome speech to let you know what to expect throughout the evening. Once the dating part begins, the ladies will be seated at their allocated table. The men will start with the corresponding number. After four minutes, the bell will be rung; and all the girls will stay seated and all the guys will move round. Between each date we allow a little time for you to make your notes on your dates using your interest card.
The events will continue with a fifteen to twenty minute half time break until you have met everyone there. Get a couple of drinks in you and what are you?
You're gayer than Judy Garland's Christmas ornaments. You're a sham! Once everyone had registered, our organizer separated us into our respective groups. Come over here! And just like that, there we were: It was like a nightmarish game of dodgeball that would air on LOGO. I was surprised to see that of the ish men there, only three including me were dressed up. Far too many of the men, who were essentially about to go on at least 15 first dates, were wearing T-shirts and tank tops. Whereas I tried to look as though I had just gotten off my fancy job as a writer, a majority of the men looked as though they had just left their shift at Aeropostale.
Had all these men lost hope?
Why were they dressed like that dude from high school who always tries to sell you knives when you run into him every trip back home? If you learn anything from me at all, it's that you should always dress how you want to feel, not how you actually feel.
To be blunt, most of the men on either side including me were average-looking -- sometimes aggressively so. These men weren't the living mannequins you see gliding on the roller skates of their good looks through Chelsea. I'd like to go on record and say those men are horrible, and the human equivalent of a parfait.
The men here were normal dudes: Have you ever been at a party and realized, with a cold sweat and a shiver of dread, that you were the smartest one in the room? It's happened to me once before; I realized that if I was the smartest person in the room, then we were all screwed. That's how I imagine this gentleman felt, except that instead of being the smartest man in the room, he was the best-looking.
This was only heightened by the fact that most of the men at the event were, as I said, aggressively average -- like, community-college average. Don't get me wrong. Most of the men were hilarious -- unintentionally, that is.
One gentleman, for example, interrupted me halfway throughout our introductions and asked with a smile, "Are you a Greek god? Flattered, and with a bit of beer foam dribbling out of my mouth, I politely declined. I know how that scenario usually ends: By the end of the night, I had met about 16 different men, and I can tell you that the look of disappointment that flashed on their faces upon seeing me never got old.
I tried my best to be my most "top" self like trying to polish a turd, as they say. Alas, despite my greatest efforts, I was not a very convincing top. I might have had better luck convincing them I was a a very lost and confused lesbian.
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