Interviews, a Dozen

"Oh, the places you'll go!" exclaims the Dr. Seuss book about life's unpredictable journey.

Who would have predicted that I, avoider of run of the mill restaurants and bars in general, would set foot into Charley's Eating and Drinking Saloon on Newbury Street? But that is where a HurryDate event was being held on Wednesday for Jewish people in my age range. So I told the part of me who snubs conventional places to chill out while I checked out a dozen supposedly eligible bachelors.

If you've never participated in this post-modern dating ritual, it can be a bit strange at first. Each person gets a number (I was #10) and each woman takes a seat at a table, each marked with a letter of the alphabet; of course, I chose the table marked I. Then the men seat themselves, one per table, and the dating begins. After 4-5 minutes, the host blows his whistle and the men get up and move to the next table in alphabetical order; it's like musical chairs except there is no music and there are enough chairs for all, unless there is a gender imbalance. Then either the extra woman or man gets a breather. If you're wondering how it's possible to get to know someone in 4-5 minutes, it isn't possible. That's not the point of a HurryDate, or a SpeedDate, or an 8MinuteDate. The point is to figure out if you'd like to continue the conversation some other time, not whether you want to marry the person and have "a million babies" as the host joked with us.

The fact is there are some people whom you know you never want to date just by looking at them. The first man to sit at my table fell into this category. His bad teeth and scruffy appearance turned me off, although he seemed happy in his life. Fortunately, the 4 minutes flew by. Before we knew it, the host had tooted the whistle and the next man had sat down.

Only one of my conversations dragged. A fleshy and flashily dressed man with a gold tie clip asked me if I was at all into sports or the Red Sox.

"No," I said, without elaboration or apology.

Somehow we survived until the whistle sounded again.

Towards the end of the evening, as the host became more practiced, his low toots on the whistle evolved into sharp and loud blasts. I felt as if I were at a bizarre sporting event, with no teams or spectators and with no winners or losers, just people playing the odds.

The host's grounding advice was to circle Y (for Yes) on our scorecards for as many people as possible. Yes simply meant a willingness to schedule a follow up conversation, nothing more. Taking that view, I was surprised to discover that there were 5 men I would have been willing to continue talking to. Of these, one I already knew, so that leaves a potential upside of 4 new possible acquaintances. I am curious which of these gentlemen "Yessed" me but I don't feel attached to a particular outcome.