HurryDate
HurryDate enticed me with its slogan: "Dating should be fun and in mass quantities." For $35, I'd get to meet 25 men in a single night (more than I'd spoken to in the past two years), chatting with each one for three minutes before moving on to the next. For a fast-talking New Yorker, this sounded ideal. Walking up the stairs in the restaurant, I noticed that a lot of the other singles around me looked terrified. I tried to think of this as the adult equivalent of musical chairs.
The company's vivacious hosts handed me a "Hello, my name is..." sticker, a score sheet, and a list of rules: "When your three minutes are up, we will blow a whistle to signal it's time to rotate. Circle 'yes' or 'no' on your score sheet to indicate if you are interested in meeting that person again. If both people check 'yes,' then they will receive the first name and e-mail address of their matched other half."
I zeroed in on an attractive man in his early 40s with wavy, dirty-blonde hair, sipping a drink and trying to look busy filling out his nametag. I slid into the seat across from him to do the same. He looked up and confided, "I can't believe I'm doing this." His green eyes and lopsided grin were disarming. Perusing the sample "icebreaker" questions strategically placed throughout the room, I asked, "Do you own anything tie-dyed?"
Screech! The whistle signaled that the first date had officially begun, and shocked us into temporary silence. Then we introduced ourselves. Chris was a consultant for a large marketing firm; I told him that I'm a freelance writer. We had barely segued into favorite movies when the whistle blew again.
I checked 'yes,' unsure if my attraction was based on sharing a nervous moment, or the knowledge that he hadn't owned anything tie-dyed since the early 70s.
After talking to 15 fairly attractive -- albeit homogeneous -- professional men about their jobs, their exes, and favorite sports, I moved on to Jeff, a video producer who seemed witty and interesting. By the end of the round, I had a raspy voice, a headache, and four names checked 'yes.'
When the HurryDate e-mail arrived. I felt as if I were back in high school, nervously wondering if my 'yes' men shared my interest. But my attention was briefly diverted to another message. It was from Chris, asking me out to dinner. With my rejection issues at bay, I opened the HurryDate e-mail to find that I'd been matched up with the three other guys as well.
