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I turn to my best friend Pamela, who is accompanying me because A.) we’d just finished watching the Ted Bundy documentary and she didn’t want me going alone, and B.) she was curious about having 40 first dates in an evening, as well. The Crompton Ale House in Manhattan is full of dark wood accents, vintage books glued to their shelves, and single people ready to rub elbows on a Saturday night.There are no red and pink decorations, no cheesy indication of what the event was marketed as. Pamela and I are directed to the back of the bar, where the good people of NY Minute Dating gave us our name tags and pieces of paper to record the people we met.If I was a different version of myself, set in my career and ready for another chapter of my life, this event would be ideal.But I could barely match my socks or commit to a Netflix show.” I rub my temples, thinking about how I already wear all black and have minimum contact with men, so pivoting to being a nun wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for me. I told the last two guys you were my sister.” “Oh my gosh, no, you didn’t. A rolled ankle would be significantly less painful and easier to deal with whatever was ahead of me for the next hour. Was I better off aimlessly swiping, hoping that out of 100 matches, I could find one decent person to Snapchat for a week before forgetting about them?“I’m losing my voice,” she squeaks out, “I’ve never talked about myself so much in my life.” “I’m just winging it at this point,” I confess. I’m telling everyone that now.” The bells goes off again. Did I overestimate the novelty of meeting someone in person before getting to know them?The majority of men attending the event were in their mid to late 30s, looking for something serious, and fast.The fastest I’ve ever moved was running away from the bouquet toss at my cousin’s wedding.

” text or an overpriced polyester bear holding a heart. attend a Valentine’s Day-themed speed dating event.So, that was truly the confidence boost I needed before walking into a bar full of over 80 strangers, half of whom I would have to spend three minutes conversing with. “Yeah screw it, let’s do the damn thing," Pamela says.About an hour into the event, the host announces there will be a 10-minute break for food.People beeline to the platters of snacks, and I turn to Pamela, eyes wide. Should I just skip years of online dating and guys named Chad and just join a convent already? After a date that felt the need to speak to me all but three inches away from my face, I began to wonder what my 50-yard dash time would be in the pair of gold Lauren Conrad heels that I had donned for the occasion.

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