‘Right!’ I said, taken aback by her frankness.
‘Well, don’t waste valuable hunting time talking to me, sweetie. Now I’ve filled you in, have a good look around at what’s on offer and get chatting!’
I was almost tempted to pull at Margaret’s face and hair to check it wasn’t Chloe underneath in disguise. How else would she know that I was effectively here in a veiled attempt to find love?
As with Chloe, I knew better than to argue, so I took a quick glance in front of and behind me. With this many people, it was hard to see through the crowd. Kevin, the organiser, had said we’d be stopping for a toilet break when we reached Dulwich Park, so it’d be easier to make conversation then.
It was crazy. I’d lived in South London all my life and yet I hadn’t even known that Sydenham Hill Woods existed and I’d never been to Dulwich Park. But it was beautiful. Lots of lovely flowers, a boating lake and some cute ducks. I took loads of photos. Pics of nature probably wouldn’t be appreciated by the social media followers I had, so I couldn’t post them, but I thought these shots were really pretty. They’d look great in a mural painting. Shame I didn’t do that anymore.
There were couples lying on the grass enjoying picnics. Lucky them. I’d love to spend a lazy afternoon in the sunshine snuggled up on a picnic blanket whilst my gorgeous boyfriend fed me grapes and gazed into my eyes. I’d never done anything like that with Eric.
As Kevin promised, we soon stopped outside the loos. Whilst some of the group queued for the toilets, others went off to get ice cream and the rest hung out on the grass.
I looked around, and it wasn’t long before I spotted a potential new ‘friend’: a cute guy with dark floppy hair. But he was at the opposite end of the group. Wouldn’t it be a bit weird to walk all the way over there and just start talking to him randomly?
I didn’t know how to do this without looking like an idiot. It just seemed so desperate somehow. If I was standing next to someone and just happened to turn my head and start talking to them, that would be more natural, but making a beeline for a guy who was nearly twenty metres away? Hmmm. I wasn’t sure…
Suddenly, he started advancing, weaving his way through the group, then stopped just a few feet away from me. My heart started racing. Was this my chance? He didn’t seem to be with anyone. He was on his own, just like me.
But maybe he wanted to be alone? Some people preferred their own company.
Should I try?
Then again, if he was interested in talking, now that he was just a few feet away, surely he would have said hello to me first.
But why should the man have to make the first move? Technically, I should have the confidence to go for what I want. I supposed as he was standing so close to me now, it would be less weird to chat to him. I could just say hi and ask if it was his first time.
Oh God. But what if he ignored me?
Just as I was contemplating what to do next, another woman swooped in front of me, charged forward and introduced herself to him.
Dammit.
Procrastination and acute overthinking. Two of my weaknesses.
Look! He’d only been speaking to her for all of thirty seconds and he was already smiling and chatting away.
Missed opportunity.
I should have just gone for it. What was the worst that could have happened? Yes, I could think of plenty of embarrassing scenarios, but realistically, he might have responded positively. It was always much easier to be wise after the fact, though, wasn’t it?
I messed up. I’d probably chastise myself about this for the foreseeable future, but that wasn’t going to help me. I had made a commitment to this meeting people thing and I needed to do better. Try harder. Chloe said no pain, no gain, so somehow, no idea how exactly, I had to find a way to up my game and not be so bloody afraid.
Preferably before this daunting speed dating event on Tuesday…
Chapter Nine
Why was it that whenever I really needed my eyeliner flick to be straight and even on both eyes, I could never get it right? One side was either too thick, or too flicky, or not flicky enough. Aaargh! The fact that I was fretting about speed dating tonight probably wasn’t helping to steady my hands.
Speed dating. If someone had told me a few weeks ago that in approximately ninety minutes’ time, I would be in a Leon restaurant about to meet twenty different guys in one night rather than ordering their chicken satay hot box, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Despite vowing not to be so afraid, I couldn’t stop myself from worrying. Sitting across a table from a stranger twenty times was pretty scary. What was I supposed to say? Yes, I know, hello and the standard have you done this before? would be a good start. But what then? Three minutes or whatever it was could be a long time to fill when you had nothing to talk about. Equally, was it really possible to tell whether you had a connection with someone in the time it took to boil a kettle?
It wasn’t just finding the right topics of conversation I was nervous about. It was also the task of coming across as interesting, funny and smart whilst trying to look cool and sexy and flirt. All at the same time. Jeez. How was I going to pull that off? And, oh God—what if I spent the whole evening chatting, then realised afterwards I had something stuck between my teeth? Must remember to floss.
I tied my hair back into a bun. I hadn’t had time to straighten it today as I was super busy at work, so I wasn’t able to start getting ready as early as I would have liked. In any case, it was raining outside, so if I wore it down and even a few drops of water fell on my curls, they would explode into a ball of frizz almost instantly. Nope. Much safer to scrape it all back. I’d even slicked it down with some gel I’d found in the bathroom cupboard, so my hair looked quite tidy for a change, not like the messy bun I wore every day.
Anyway… I needed to pick up the pace. I still hadn’t worked out what I was going to wear and was only halfway through putting on my make-up. Not to mention the fact that this wonky eyeliner looked like it had been applied by a two-year-old. Time to wipe it off and start again…
Five minutes until speed dating officially started and I was a bag of nerves. I glanced over at the area at the back of the restaurant that had been sectioned off for the event. I felt my stomach cramping and beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. Gosh, it was hot in here. Or maybe it was just me. I pulled a tissue from my bag and dabbed it over my face.
I’d already been to the toilet and could confirm that there wasn’t any spinach stuck between my teeth. I’d also swallowed multiple mints, so my breath was fresh, and thankfully, I’d eventually managed to get my eyeliner relatively even. I had kept my make-up simple—just added some mascara, tinted moisturiser and natural peachy gloss.
Outfit-wise, I’d opted for my new purple skater dress with tights and kitten heels. I looked around at the other women here. A few were wearing low-cut tops, short skirts and skyscraper heels. And as for the make-up, they’d either stopped off at a department store counter to get it done professionally before coming here or had religiously studied contouring and ‘perfecting your cat’s-eye flick’ YouTube videos, as their application was flawless. Maybe I should have experimented with some bright lipstick, like one of the colours Chloe wore.
Then again, if I’d worn red lipstick, I might have ended up looking like a clown, as I’d never found the right shade and if I had attempted that contouring stuff, people would think I’d fallen head first into a giant tub of highlighter. And even with this push-up bra, my modest boobs couldn’t compare to the others on display tonight.
I’d now been standing in the corner for almost ten minutes, eyeing up the exit, and that wasn’t good. I knew myself. The more I stood here, the more I would start to question my outfit, get nervous or start playing on my phone. I needed to do something. Attempt to be brave and throw myself into this.
I looked around. Now this was my fourth event, my room-scanning skills were getting a little better. This restaurant was much bigger than the other
Leon stores I’d visit whenever I fancied some healthy fast food—hence why they were able to host an event at the back whilst they still kept it open to serve customers at the front. It had the familiar white-tiled walls, wooden flooring and black tables and chairs.
At a guess, I’d say most people here for speed dating were early to mid-thirties—perhaps a few in their twenties. The men ranged from cool bearded hipster types to suited and booted city boys, geeks in T-shirts, and a scattering of I’m hot and I know it guys. Probably friends with Mr Burgundy Suit.
Just as I was watching them, they were probably doing the same. It was only natural. I didn’t want to seem standoffish or look like a wallflower. Time to take a deep breath, try to make conversation and loosen myself up a little.
First, maybe I should get a drink. Calm my nerves. I reached into my purse for one of the coupons they’d given us with our name badges when we arrived. A glass of red should do the trick. Then again, the last thing I needed was for someone to bump into me when we were changing tables and end up with a big red wine stain down the front of my dress. Not worth the risk.
‘Glass of white, please,’ I requested before turning to a lady with long braids standing to the left of the bar.
‘Hi,’ I said, smiling. ‘I’m Emily, how are you?’
‘Good, thanks, Emily.’ She frowned, then took a sip of her red wine. Obviously less clumsy or paranoid than me. ‘I’m Monica. Nice to meet you.’ She frowned again, then began wiping the top of her brow aggressively.
Strange.
‘Tissue…’ she said, her frown deepening even more.
‘Oh right, yes,’ I said, opening my bag and rummaging around. ‘I think I have a spare one… Actually, no. Really sorry. I don’t have a fresh one. Maybe you could use a serviette instead?’ I said, pointing to the counter.
‘Thank you, but no. I don’t need a tissue… I was trying to say that you have some bits of tissue on your forehead.’
Great. That’s just peachy, isn’t it? Must have happened when I tried to wipe my sweat away. I’d been standing over there for God knows how long with guys staring at me and I had blobs of tissue all over my face.
Nice one, Em. What a way to look sexy.
I reached in my bag for my mirror and quickly picked off the bit sticking to my brow and the other piece hanging just below my hairline. Imagine if she hadn’t told me and I’d gone the whole night looking like that? Didn’t bear thinking about.
‘You’re a lifesaver, Monica, thank you!’ I said, also feeling grateful for the name badge she was wearing. Made things so much easier.
‘No worries!’ She smiled. ‘Is it your first time?’
‘God, is it that obvious?’ I stood up straighter in an attempt to appear more confident. Hard to do after having your forehead plastered with Kleenex.
‘No, not at all. It’s just that I came to the first speed dating event a few weeks ago and don’t remember seeing you there, so I just guessed.’
‘Oh, I see. What was it like?’ I said, relaxing a little. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before to meet guys—I’ve always relied on the apps.’
‘Ah, the joys of online dating!’ she joked. ‘Personally I prefer events like this. It’s a good way to meet a bunch of guys face-to-face without having to swipe first. Yeah, most of them probably won’t be for you, but it only takes one, so it’s worth a try.’
‘That’s exactly what my friend said, so I’m hoping she’s right,’ I replied.
‘Hi, everyone!’ said Kelly, the hostess, tapping the side of a glass with a knife to get our attention.
‘Welcome to our second speed dating event. Nice to see you all. I know you’re all eager to get started, so let me just run through how it all works. As you can see, there’s lots of you here tonight, so each of you will go on up to twenty-four dates. You’ll have four minutes to talk to each other, which should give you plenty of time to introduce yourselves, have a quick chat and decide whether you’d like to see each other again.’ She picked up a batch of A4 sheets, along with a box of pens, and started passing them around.
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking a form and pen, then giving the rest to Monica.
‘At the end of the four minutes, if you’d like to see that person again, write their name down on the sheet provided. Gents stay seated and then ladies move along to the next date,’ continued Kelly. ‘When all the dates are completed, we’ll come up to you individually to find out who you like, and if there’s a match, we’ll pass on your contact details so that you can get in touch with each other. Any questions? No? In that case, let the dating begin!’
Wow—up to twenty-four dates rather than the twenty I’d anticipated? This was going to be even harder than I thought…
I sat down to meet my first date: Ed, an artist from East London. The conversation was okay, but there was no connection. Turns out that four minutes was enough to know whether you wanted to see someone again. And I needn’t have worried about knowing what to say as they’d put a pile of conversation starters in a little box on the table just in case.
Next was Steven. I’d initially been excited to speak to him as he was certainly ticking my box in the aesthetics department with his smouldering good looks, but sadly zero personality and monosyllabic responses, which was a complete turn-off. No amount of conversation starters could have spiced up our mundane exchange. He wasn’t into me, and the feeling was definitely mutual.
After a dozen or so more dates, I was getting the hang of things a bit more. No one was really jumping out at me yet, but there was still about half an hour to go. I sat down in front of the next prospect.
‘Hello, Emily.’ He squinted as he tried to read my name badge. ‘I’m Rory, good to meet you.’
Nice and polite. Positive start.
‘Good to meet you too,’ I replied, relaxing a bit more. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
We made some small talk for a couple of minutes about the weather and the fact that we’d both never done speed dating before. He seemed okay. At least he could hold a conversation, which was more than could be said for that Steven guy.
‘So, Emily, what do you do?’ he asked. ‘No, no! Actually, don’t tell me. Let me guess!’ he said excitedly.
‘Okay,’ I said, thinking this could be fun. ‘Go on, then!’
‘Um…’ He looked me up and down. I felt a bit exposed but let him continue. ‘I’ve got it! You’re an accountant!’ he shouted.
‘Nope.’ I smiled, intrigued by his conclusion. ‘Not even close!’
‘Oh?’ He looked really disappointed.
‘You seem surprised, Rory.’
‘Yeah, I am. It’s just I’m normally good at this.’
‘Don’t worry about it! I’m an illustrator. Out of interest, what made you think I was an accountant?’
‘Um,’ he said, looking me up and down again. ‘I dunno, I guess maybe it’s because of your hair?’
‘My hair?’ I frowned.
‘Yeah, it looks kind of, I dunno? Boring? Safe?’
Boring? My mouth fell to the floor.
‘I mean, it’s fine and all, I suppose. Very neat and tidy. Professional. If you’re a designer, I would have thought you’d look cooler. More edgy. Y’know. Creative. It’s just, take that girl over there,’ he said, pointing to a busty brunette who was laughing loudly on the other side of the room. ‘Her hair is all flowy and sexy. I bet she does something glamorous like, I don’t know, modelling underwear or exotic dancing. Mmm. You can just tell. Oh and also, you’re not wearing any make-up. Well, not enough anyway. You could do with wearing more. And I’d lose those thick tights you’re wearing. It’s a bit much for this time of year, don’t you think? Whereas that girl, she’s dressed properly,’ he said as his eyes scanned upwards from her legs, then fixated firmly on her large breasts. ‘She’s got on a lovely tight dress and bare legs. She looks exciting. Adventurous. Like she takes care of herself. She’s hot.’
What a creep.
‘Ar
e you…?’ I gasped. ‘Did you really just say…?’
I didn’t even know how to respond. I mean, I knew I’d never be described as the life and soul of the party, and I wasn’t likely to be invited to model at a Victoria’s Secret show anytime this century, but wow.
Yes, I know. We all judge people based on their appearance, myself included. But it was one thing to think it, completely another to say it. Especially in such a rude way. I’d put my hair up for practical reasons and worn the only pair of tights I could find so my legs wouldn’t get wet in the rain. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t exactly sexy, but he didn’t need to insult me. I was offended that he thought I didn’t look cool enough to be an illustrator. And was he saying all accountants are boring too?
Men.
Seriously. Eric, that Will guy from the party. Oh, and of course Mr Burgundy Suit. As Chloe would say, what a bunch of zounderkites.
I felt like just getting up and leaving right now. I hadn’t even wanted to come to this stupid event, so the last thing I needed was to sit here and get insulted again.
Sod it. I’m going home.
Just as I stood up to go, the bell rang. I didn’t even bother to say another word to Rude Rory. Prick.
I was fuming. I started walking over towards the organiser’s area to get my coat.
‘Here’s your next date!’ said Kelly, resting her hand on my shoulder and pointing towards the empty chair.
‘Actually, I was just about to—’
‘Hey!’ said the guy enthusiastically. I couldn’t read his name from this distance. It was written in quite small writing. ‘Fancy meeting you here!’ he joked in his Cockney accent.
He had dark hair and a thick beard and was wearing a red-and-black lumberjack shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing lots of large tattoos. Whilst he had the dark features that I liked, he dressed differently to my past boyfriends. Eric had a more simple, classic dress sense. You know, plain white shirt, smart blue jeans and black shoes, that type of thing. This guy was more rugged. He looked like he’d just come from chopping down trees or doing hard manual labour. Kind of sexy, actually. Gosh. Did making assumptions about his profession based on his looks put me in the same category as that awful Rory guy? No. Like I said, I guess we all did it. The difference was, I would keep my thoughts firmly to myself.
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