Avoid Shortcuts

Last night I found myself sitting alone in a dark corner below a bright spotlight. There was a man standing there next to me, looming.

“I’m a police detective,” he said. Then he started asking a lot of questions.

I swear it’s not what you think. I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, except for sign up for speed dating, that is.

So who hasn’t been curious about this practice since it emerged 10 or so years ago? I suppose those who were already tried it. And, well, it’s jumped the shark.

I’d hoped for some novelty, some fun, some intrigue. But what I got was a bunch of guys looking for a place where women would sit still when they approached them. I knew it wouldn’t go well when, before things even started, I realized the only man in the room who I found attractive was pouring drinks behind the bar.

The women sat at tables in a skeezy Hollywood Boulevard dive while the men moved to the next one every two minutes or so. The event organizer assigned me to the corner table all alone, a place where no one would be able to hear me scream. I like to think I’m nice – but two minutes just started feeling like a really long time. And that was only talking.

“You exercise regular?”

“I’m going to mark you ‘yes’ just because of your good looks.”

“There’s always women throwing themselves at me.”

“I’m an attorney for other attorneys.”

“You must be A…”

On my match card I circled “no,” “no,” then “no,” another “no,” and “no” again.