I speed-walk to the bar and order a glass of red wine; if Gail is pushing me to do this foolishness, I’m allowing myself some daytime drinking. I look behind me, everyone here is holding a drink. I sneak a glimpse to where I saw Dex standing before, but he’s gone now. Great. How much more awkward can this get?
The bartender slides my drink over the countertop. “You want to open a tab?” she asks.
“Oh no, thank you, just this one should be enough,” I chuckle, then actually look at the size of the wine; it’s in one of those little four-ounce wine glasses. It’s junior-sized.
She smiles, “Oh, you’ll be back to order more. You’ll see.”
I take a slow sip of my drink. “You’re probably right. I’m here and so is my ex, who I am still unequivocally in love with.”
“Shut up! No, you’re lying!” She’s too excited about my plight.
I take a bigger sip of wine and shake my head. “I wish I was. My boss thought it would be productive for us to do this together.”
“You have to work with him too?” She gasps and slaps her hands over her mouth, theatrically.
“Yep.”
She pours me more wine. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks,” I say, holding up my glass to her.
“I’m excited to see how this turns out for you. I love watching what happens at these things, sometimes it gets really bad.” She giggles in an off way.
My stomach flips, “Bad?”
Behind me a loud jarring bell clangs and vibrates through the room. I spin around and focus my attention on Meredith, who is standing in the middle of the room holding an enormous gong. “Welcome, everyone!” she cheers, setting the hideous noisemaker by her feet. She bounces through a quick summary of her matchmaking skills and how she believes someone in this very room today, will find their perfect match.
“Everyone was given a scorecard, right?” she says, holding one up and doing a slow twirl to show everyone. Three people in the back didn’t get one. They raise their hands and it’s like we’ve been sucked back in time to kindergarten. Meredith claps her hands quickly and two of her workers run to the empty-handed people. “We have a group of beautiful women who will be sitting at those intimate tables to talk with, and you handsome men will rotate every seven minutes when you hear the bell ring.” I eye the tables against the walls. They are jammed way too close together to be called intimate.
“Each of you will write the number and name of each person you date in the left-hand column boxes. Next to that column, if you look, you’ll see three other columns, labeled: date, friend, and no thanks.”
I quickly lean my scorecard down on the bar and cross out all the words and relabel the columns:Quick Bathroom Bang, Restraining Order, andI Think I Saw This Guy on America’s Most Wanted List. The bartender laughs at me, causing everyone to look in our direction.
I spot Dex leaning on the opposite end of the bar. He’s staring down at his shoes.
Meredith clears her throat and gives me a stern expression. “Annnywaay,” she shrills, “You will mark off whom you’d like to see again. At the end of our Date-in-a-Dash, you’ll go home, log into our website, and enter your choices. Date matches will be sent to you through email and then…” she shimmies her hips awkwardly, “you can take things to the next level.”
I pull out my phone and type out a quick post on social media.I just got told I have to attend a few rounds of speed dating alongside my ex. Hope everyone has fun at my funeral when I drop dead of humiliation.#DayDrinkingStartsIn321 #KillMeNow
All the women scramble to find a table to sit at. I shuffle my way to the only open table left and slowly sit down. Meredith yells at someone to move her gong and put it up on the bar before someone trips over it.
My phone bings with notification after notification, my followers reacting to the first thing I’ve written to them in over a month. Meredith flies into a rant about dating etiquette, respecting the intimacy between others, and silencing our phones or she’ll confiscate them.
I immediately re-name her Merrydeath, and mute my cellphone. My screen flashes with my readers’ comments and replies. Everyone is demanding to know why,why did Dex and I break up? Why speed-dating? Why, why, why?
Then the men take their first round of seats. I lean forward and glance right and left, searching for Dex. He’s five guys down. Damn it, that means it’s going to be another thirty-five minutes before he gets to sit across from me.
The gong rips through the room, startling all of us. The woman next to me squeaks like a mouse and presses her hand against her chest. My date settles into the chair across from me and smiles. “So, Jane,” he says, as if reading from a cue card, “what do you do for fun?”
Uh-oh. I’ve been so focused on talking to Dex, I hadn’t even considered what my actual dates in a dash would entail.What the hell do I do for fun?“Uh… for fun?”
“Ahhh,” he smiles and nods his head, knowingly. “Virgin, huh?” he asks, bringing his martini to his lips.
I can feel my eyes almost pop out of my skull.
The gentlemen, his nametag says Dave, almost chokes on his drink. “I meant, speed-dating virgin. Oh God, that was an awful word to use, I’m sorry.” His cheeks redden. “I was trying for flirty, but it came out perverted.”
I laugh and wave my hands. “Oh, no. It’s okay. Iama total virgin at this, and I guess I didn’t quite realize I’d have to answer questions and stuff, so I just got a little flustered.”
