SPEED DATING
“I dated 50 guys in
one night”
You've heard about speed dating, it's for losers, right? Nup.
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“Hi. My name's Bronwyn, how are you? Are you having
a good night?” Pause. “I'm a journalist for Cosmopolitan...
yeah I really love it. I work with an office full of smart,
fashionable, food-loving girls...” I seriously reckon
I must have said those lines about a million times in one
hour. I was exhausted – and losing my voice –
but loving every minute. The first Cosmopolitan/Ralph magazine
speed-dating event took place last month, and it had all the
electricity of a New Year's Eve party.
OK, so I didn't actually go to Wagamama (that's where it
was held) with the intention of being a speed dater, I went
with my Cosmo hat on to have a bit of a perve – but
due to a few rainy-night no-shows, I stepped up and grabbed
a name tag. I am legitimately single, after all.
The vibe early in the night was one of fear, but it was well
hidden under nervous smiles, noodles and cocktails. Moving
through the room, I surveyed the crowd thinking how good the
calibre of men was (the girls were great too, but I was looking
from a purely selfish point of view). Some came in groups,
some came alone, but ultimately they were all there for the
same reason – hoping to meet someone that they clicked
with. I took my seat with the other “speeders”
and on the tables there were pens, grading forms and emergency
questions in case we got stuck (cringe).
Our host, Nova's Bianca Dye, explained how it would work:
girls on one side, guys on the other. At the end of each two-minute
date a gong would sound and that was the cue for the boys
to shimmy down one seat. If you liked the person you dated,
you marked their number on the scorecard with a tick. Got
it. Let the dating begin.
The entire room exploded with conversation, the buzz was
surreal. My first few dates were nice. I had a mix of men
that ranged from Parramatta firemen, to inner-city stockbrokers
and one very odd-looking man in a wig (turned out to be a
guy from Ralph). After 10 or so guys passed by me, the normal
questions like, “Where do you work?” disappeared
and out came the, “Where's the strangest place you've
ever had sex?” and “Are you one of those girls
who like to string guys along?” By this stage, I was
laughing so much I was close to peeing – in fact, I
had to strike a deal with one of my dates that if he let me
run to the toilet during his two minutes, I'd have a drink
with him at the end of the night. Deal.
The vibe after the event was more insane, electric even.
Everyone was so relaxed and talking to people liked they'd
lived next door for years. We handed in our scorecards and
filed to the bar for a few more drinks.
So how do you know who picked who? The Cosmo marketing crew
had a long night ahead of them, crthe details to the respective
people for them to follow up the next day. But who was waiting
for the next day? Couples were pashing already! Talk about
relationship accelerators. Unfortunately, I didn't meet my
future husband, but I had heaps of fun looking.osschecking
cards to see if any of the ticks corresponded. If they did,
the girls emailed
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