According to the urban dictionary, a date is:
Two people getting together for an activity when the possibility of romance between them has been broached but not ruled out. Since the exploration of romance is the purpose of a date, merely asking someone out on a date is sufficient to broach the subject.
He said: I would like to take a personal angle when covering the story about speed dating
She said: How about we go on a date and I can reflect on the experience on my blog and you can write it from your perspective for the newspaper.
He said: Good idea, I did not go on one date for the whole of last year so this will be something different.
She said: Do not worry; you are safe with me because I am a professional dater….
I am so excited because in just under one weeks’ time I am going out on a date with a single guy that sounds intelligent, witty, creative and quite the catch actually. I have ascertained this through welcomed distracting emails at work and night-time texts. In fact, I am now impatient because the more I get to know this journalist via the advantages of modern technology, the more I want to meet him in person. Is this one of my key flaws in finding a relationship? My impatience?……
The date is tomorrow and my impatience has beaten me. After a weekend of partying, a near death experience with flooding in Brisbane and a very busy and stressful day at work, I am nervous and exhausted with the thought of this date. What if I have a ‘christie moment’ and am lost for words, we have nothing in common without the comfort of our phone and computer and the date is just awkward?
I’m running late!!! I fly out of the shower, grab whatever dress is washed (although crumpled) and quickly show my mum in passing for extra approval. This was not a good idea because she pulls ‘that’ face of disapproval.
Do you really think that is appropriate, I mean it is a little short and you don’t want to look cheap!
What? The dress hugs my figure (which I work hard at attaining mind you) and falls at my knees. I would say it is classy and flattering. I decide to ignore my mother’s old fashioned advice and iron the dress, slip it on and bam, done.
As I am ironing, mother comes in to apologise, I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Christie. I do not have the energy for this I think and just keep ironing and say all good Mum.
10 minutes until the date starts and I have not even done my hair or make-up, well prepared Christie, good form!
Slip, slop, slap. Done. Ready. Scrub up ok for a 10 minute job.
I text my date, running 10 minutes late. During the drive to the restaurant, music plays and so do the voices in my mind. They question everything: me as a person, my intellect, my desirability, my single status. I remind myself that this is not actually a date anyway really. If we get along well that is a bonus but mainly, I am taking one for the team and going on an extended date to promote the beauty of Speed Dating with Style.
Door locked, clip, clop to the door of the restaurant. Thoughts are: you love dinner dates, meeting new people and speed dating is a blast, you need to share the value of this with others. I am also really intrigued as to what the journalist will publish about the experience.
I walk in the door and see him straight away, he is writing already, a strike for being late perhaps? I approach and apologise for being late and the hand shake is exchanged. I open with small talk and then boom, mood and my romantic notions of a date haltered as he pulls out the notepad and recorder to begin ‘the interview’.
He says: Well this is an interview after all, it’s work.
She thinks: Wow, punch in the guts. Not an approach I would have taken personally if I were going on a date with a “personal” perspective in mind but hey I’m not a guy.
I feel awkward and unprepared. I know how to drink, eat, flirt and banter but I was not prepared for this, maybe a coffee would have been a better idea. The questions begin – who, what, when, where and why?
She thinks: What would happen if dates came with a clip board of questions and a recorder to all dates?
Wine has arrived, phew. Drink, relax.
Questions over, notepad and recorder away. The date begins. We talk about love and life and heartache and what experiences each of us have had. This I am more comfortable with.
She thinks: Am I revealing too much, will he print this? Have I just opened myself up to public scrutiny? Do I care? It’s not like I am alone, everyone has experienced love and heartache, not in the same way that I have or even as much as I have but they still have.
The date is coming to an end and I have work waiting for me at home so I kindly wrap things up. The bill is paid, we shake hands and that is that.
I drive home lost in thought. Personally, I would have preferred a speed date because then I would have had several ‘dishes’ on my date menu and could decide which one/s I wanted to see again. That is the value of speed dating as opposed to online dating, pubs or longer dates. You are guaranteed whoever you are speaking with is single, approximately your age and in person you can tell if you have chemistry and want to see them again. I would have circled the Journalist from the Toowoomba Telegraph if I met him speed dating but would be curious to know what other dates I had lined up that I matched with.
I also wonder what his perspective on our date will be? A males perspective of a date is something I would read about. I look forward to receiving a copy of the Toowoomba Telegraph on my doorstep when the story is published on Sat the 9th of Feb.
Let’s hope that love is found in Toowoomba this Valentine’s week when Speed Dating with Style returns to Metro Café on Railway Street from 7:30pm on Feb 16. http://www.speeddatingwithstyle.com.au/