Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Friday, February 22, 2008

Speed Dating

So last night I threw all presence of honor and virginity out of the window and agreed to go on a speed dating event. Well, it was for charity. Which was clearly the watchword in a lot of the attendees cases, as charity was clearly how they were going to be hooking up with anyone.

So I drank to make it... interesting, pointedly quaffing champagne. Well, set your stall out early, I thought. If I'm going to be talking to Potential Gentleman Callers, I want them to think either 'cor, he's not a cheap date' (which I'm not - you have to at least pretend to hail a cab before shrugging, saying 'you can never get a hackney carriage around here!' then hauling my drunken arse either onto the nightbus or the closest bushes) or 'cor, he's loaded, perhaps I'll show a bit of ankle if he buys me a drink' (which you don't - you have to show me a lot more than that to get so much of a sniff of Babycham out of me, boys).

So in my head, they were all no doubt writing my name on their form in their boldest handwriting, as I cruelly turned them down; 'No match!' I'd bray before drunkenly swivelling off to a new hopeful. THAT WAS HOW IT HAPPENED IN MY HEAD. What probably happened was me pinballing into them, slurring the same old three questions and either eagerly starring into their eyes like a love-sick schoolgirl who'd been at the Tipp-Ex thinners, or waiting for the honk of the horn to signify the end of the sorry affair with all the poise and dignity of Pavlov's dog.

I do recall some people were taking it worryingly seriously, whereas I told the ones under 23 that wouldn't get the joke that I invented the post-it note. Some of them fell for it.

And the other thing that I recall is getting to talk to people that you would no way at all consider talking to in a club for no other reason than you perceive them to be 'not your type of person' and actually getting on with them. It was immensely liberating in that respect. For example, who'd have thought I'd have bought drinks for the lad who's hair I'd been internally taking the piss out of in the cashpoint queue beforehand.

I'm still awaiting the results, and I'm sure the number of matches are going to be a self-confidence-destroying low, but hell. Whatever. The joy is in this day-and-age, there's a myspace and a facebook group to back it all up, so I'm already furiously poking* gentlemen who I didn't get a chance to speak to.

* oh make your own joke up. I'm so hungover I want to die.


Inexplicable DeVice said...

* finishes businesswomens lunch and removes fridge magnets from back brace before leaping into a Jag XJS, Post-its fluttering in the breeze *

CyberPete said...

IDV said what I was gonna say

Dammit, you are stealing my thunder mate.

*walks of to flirt with Tim*

Inexplicable DeVice said...

I think you've done quite enough of that already, young man! I thought you wanted ErosWings?

Lady Muck said...

I fell for that Post-It thing once...

Qenny said...

I don't like to speculate, but I have a feeling that if any of the cheeky little pups had called you out on the post-it thing, you'd have been able to rattle off the entire Lisa Kudrow monologue about how you invented them.