True Stories: Speed Dating and Erotic Tai Chi

My night started out weird and ended up weirder.

by Carlos Kotkin

“Have you done this before?” Same speed-dating question, different speed-dating day. This time I wore a gray sweater with a white-collared shirt, blue corduroy slacks, and the fancy shoes. I was not a jerk to anyone during my third attempt at speed dating; I did not allow my initial hostility toward being zero for forty-five get the best of me. I was going to do this, damn it. Florence and her whistle greeted me with pronounced sympathy. When she saw me arrive, she said something about the third time being the charm and gave me a thumbs-up. She was obviously aware of my record.

The third time did seem to be the charm. I had gotten through four blah dates when I met Jasmine. Jasmine had come to this alone. She looked like she did not want to be there. My kind of girl. She had short reddish-brown hair, doe eyes, and a smattering of freckles stylishly spread across her face. I sat down. We introduced ourselves. Her voice was nearly a whisper. Once we wrote our names down, Jasmine asked the required question. “Have you done this before?”

“Yes, I have. I’ve done this twice. I met forty-five women all together. And all forty-five of them rejected me.”

Jasmine laughed, in spite of herself. “You should not tell people that,” she advised.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggested to Jasmine as I sat across from her at the speed-dating table.

Jasmine seemed to give escape serious consideration. “We’ve only been on five dates. Shouldn’t we meet everyone?”

“It’s only going to get worse. I’ve done this. I’m a veteran. I know what I’m talking about. By the end of the night, you’re going to need a week to recharge your soul. You’re going to need to go to Bora Bora to replenish.”

She laughed and asked, “Have you been?” When I told her I’d been there twice, her eyes lit up. “What’s it like?” she asked. I spoke of Bora Bora’s captivating beauty, its turquoise waters and golden sunshine. Jasmine took in a deep breath as if wishing she were there at this very moment. “Sounds romantic.”

I confirmed it was. “Of course it would have been more romantic had I gone with someone other than my parents the first time, and my friend Brian the second.”

Jasmine laughed again, shaking her head. “You should not be telling me these things. You should be trying to impress me.”

“I was valedictorian of my high school. Does that count?” Florence blew her whistle at the end of my sentence. Three minutes with Jasmine felt like two minutes. For the first time since the countless number of times I had heard Florence’s whistle (fifty), I regretted having to move on. I remained seated across from Jasmine, as the next guy showed up. Suddenly, I was the jerk who wouldn’t leave. Leaning closer to Jasmine, I whispered, “Even though I’m seeing other people, I’d like to go out with you again.” She nodded and smiled as I left.

None of the other speed dates compared to Jasmine. I waited for things to be over so I could hopefully talk to her more. Florence finally blew the last whistle. Once the speed dating had officially ended, Jasmine was swarmed by guys seeking to extend their time with her. I am terrible at fighting for attention. Most of the men surrounding Jasmine were taller than me. Had I gone over there, I would have come across as the runt, the little boy battling for whatever paltry scraps were left behind. I began to walk out of the restaurant, hoping Jasmine would be the first speed dater in history to put me down as a yes. Then maybe we could have a longer conversation. But what was this? What inspired, unexpected, but happily accepted stroke of good fortune was taking place? Jasmine left the men and their dangling tongues to join me. We walked out of the restaurant together. Booyah.

“I feel so drained. You were right,” sighed Jasmine. “How could you possibly do that three times?”

“Well, I kind of had to. I’m a Navy SEAL, in training. They make us go speed dating. It strengthens our ability to withstand torture.” Another laugh from Jasmine. It was refreshing not to have to tell her I was kidding. I walked her to her car. Trying not to sound too nervous, I revealed that I had put her down as a yes on my pamphlet, suggesting that if she also put me down as a yes then we should exchange phone numbers. It would save the time of having to log onto a computer. Besides, I didn’t trust my computer when it came to speed dating. Jasmine hesitated. I thought the house of cards was about to come tumbling down. But she gave me her number. As I walked back to my car, I threw my official speed-dating pamphlet away, not interested in whether any other girls had put me down as a yes. I assumed they all did. It didn’t matter. Too late, ladies.