Speed Dating - Five Minutes to Screen the Psychos
I always thought that speed dating was something you did with the colorful girls on Sunset Boulevard. Turns out that there is another, more organized system right here in town: No Waiting Dating, "upscale speed dating with class and style."
I know, it sounds like a crock of Fiber-One, but owner Karalee Austin runs the show like a southern belle, classy smashy all the way down
to champagne by the spitting lions.
Dress was upscale, but I think men should be left to their own devices. That way women can see what they're getting.
"Hmm. Sandals with tube socks ... NEXT!"
As it stands, women begin each date with a standard security question: "Did anyone help you get dressed for tonight's event?"
I went on Single Parents Night, which is nice because you can be reasonably sure that these women go all the way. Some of the women were familiar with my work and wanted to know me on a first-name basis. That is, they refused to give their last names. So it goes.
Dating was way easier in grade school, when, if you liked a girl, all you had to do was stick gum in her hair.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
That's Karalee's bell. When she rings, you move, mid-sentence if necessary. You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Karalee's bell.
Cynthia was my first date. She thought I was gay.
"No," I said. "It's not a purse; it's a messenger bag. I bought it in a men's store."
Cynthia made a note on her sheet. My first demerit.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
If dating is like a job interview, then speed-dating is a job fair. You get five minutes to explain your résumé.
"Yes, I was with Tanya from May to August ... Why did we break up? ... I'm afraid she was downsizing ... Since then I've mainly been temping."
Next came Sarah, who may have misunderstood the concept of "speed-dating" and showed up high on speed. I didn't understand everything she said, but she seemed to be working on product placement.
"I work out at the gym, and these 28-year-olds think they're ready for me while they're still driving Saturns."
If you want the full experience, you'll have to omit the spaces between her words.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
I know, it sounds like a crock of Fiber-One, but owner Karalee Austin runs the show like a southern belle, classy smashy all the way down
Dress was upscale, but I think men should be left to their own devices. That way women can see what they're getting.
"Hmm. Sandals with tube socks ... NEXT!"
As it stands, women begin each date with a standard security question: "Did anyone help you get dressed for tonight's event?"
I went on Single Parents Night, which is nice because you can be reasonably sure that these women go all the way. Some of the women were familiar with my work and wanted to know me on a first-name basis. That is, they refused to give their last names. So it goes.
Dating was way easier in grade school, when, if you liked a girl, all you had to do was stick gum in her hair.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
That's Karalee's bell. When she rings, you move, mid-sentence if necessary. You don't pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger and you don't mess around with Karalee's bell.
Cynthia was my first date. She thought I was gay.
"No," I said. "It's not a purse; it's a messenger bag. I bought it in a men's store."
Cynthia made a note on her sheet. My first demerit.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
If dating is like a job interview, then speed-dating is a job fair. You get five minutes to explain your résumé.
"Yes, I was with Tanya from May to August ... Why did we break up? ... I'm afraid she was downsizing ... Since then I've mainly been temping."
Next came Sarah, who may have misunderstood the concept of "speed-dating" and showed up high on speed. I didn't understand everything she said, but she seemed to be working on product placement.
"I work out at the gym, and these 28-year-olds think they're ready for me while they're still driving Saturns."
If you want the full experience, you'll have to omit the spaces between her words.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling.
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