craschworks

So I went to the Hurrydate on Wednesday. It was held in the basement of Kell's Irish Pub on Jackson street in San Francisco. Registration began at 6:35 p.m.; the event itself started at 7:00 p.m.

I wandered around the bar. Sharon, the organizer, noticed my “lost look” and asked if I was there for the “HurryDate”.

“Yes.”

She gave me a name tag and a sheet of paper, both emblazoned in bold Sharpie with my name and a big number 58. At the top of the paper were 80 checkboxes numbered 1-80 with “y” or “n” written under each number; the bottom half was empty for notes.

Surprisingly, they were short on guys. Sharon asked me if I wanted to go for the second round as well.

“Sure”.

As people came in, they clumped along gender lines, women at the bar, men at the tables, eyeing each other cautiously. While we waited for the event to start, I chatted with an elegantly dressed Asian guy. Although I would guess he was no more than 28 years old, he and his 32 year old sister run their own Chinese medicine import business.

Before we could chat much longer, Sharon began bellowing out instructions through her headset microphone. “O.K., everyone, listen up. Go to the bathroom now, 'cause for next 90 min, you won't have time. Ladies, find a seat with a letter in front of it. Guys, find a seat across from one of the ladies. When I ring this bell, guys, you must get up and go to the next lady. You have three minutes. That's it, three minutes. If at the end of three minutes, you decide you want to see this person again, circle “Yes” under their number. If you don't, circle “No”. In a couple of days, we will e-mail everyone who matched with your names and phone numbers. If you have questions, ask me, or one of my two assistants. O.K., everyone, Go!”

The room erupted into a roar of conversation. You had to shout and lean in, in order to hear the other person.

“What's your name…”
“Hi, I'm Chris…”
“Whew, this placed is packed…”
“Sally. So where did you drive in from….”
“My name's Bob…”
“…Redwood City, but I'm originally from Queens, N.Y.”
“So how did you find out a …”
“What do you like to read…?”
“….my girlfriend Pam, over there, signed me up..”

Ding! Ding Ding! Three minutes goes by really quickly. The guys made a mad scramble to get to the next table.

At first I thought 3 minutes was far too short a time to get to know someone. And it is. But even though all but one of the women were pleasant and nice, I was surprised at the number of women who I strongly doubted I would be compatible with. For example, I asked one women what question she was asking most of the guys.

“I used to ask guys 'What do you like to do when it's a rainy day'. But then I thought about how I would answer that question. I hate rainy days. I love to be outside, playing tennis, biking, and running. I hate to be sitting inside.”

Now I like to get out once in a while too. But as a movie-lovin', Internet-surfin', book-readin' fool, I could foresee frequent problems if we had to jointly decide what to do on lazy Sunday afternoon.

Ages ranged from 25 – 35, though I think the ages were skewed toward the upper end of the range. Physical appearance varied from “Sandra Bullock” pretty to “Sarah Bernhardt” ugly.

The were a few sparks intellectually. Two of the women listed Ayn Rand as a favorite author. Another and I both agreed that the David Sedaris book, “Me Talk Pretty One Day”, was hysterical.

I got bored with the standard “where you from/where do you live/what do you do” questions. So I started asking questions like “Were you raised religious?” These questions often seemed “tinny” and awkward, because they're not the questions you would normally ask in the beginning of a conversation with a stranger.

My mouth got dry quickly from the constant conversation, so I drained my water glass frequently. By the time the first round was over, I desperately needed the bathroom. At the end of the last “date” in the first round, I turned in my paper, and rushed to the bathroom. I hope I didn't seem too eager to leave.

By the time I came back, they were already about to start the second round. This time I felt more relaxed. I didn't ask any unusual questions, just let the conversation flow.

So how many did I agree to see again?

All of them.

I was curious to see how many women, out of a quasi-random population, would respond to me. I figured if I didn't want to see them again I could just tell them, but I wouldn't have an opportunity to get their numbers again.

So how many wanted to see me again?

Out of roughly 40 women, 9 of them agreed to see me again. About 23%.

Interestingly, twice as many women from the second round as from the first wanted to see me again.

So would I do it again?

Yes. It's a very intense experience. I found it quite fun, even though I don't think I particularly connected with any of the women there. One thing it made me realize is just how self-selected most of my friends are. I tend to forget that there are people who can barely use e-mail, let alone know what the DMCA is, or why it's important.

But I think I'll do it again nonetheless.