Sparky's speed-dating malarkey

Seeing as absolutely everyone demanded it, here is the story of what happened when I went speed-dating. Oh, first, let's get this straight - this all happened about three years ago.

So, basically, I went along with a couple of mates for a laugh. There were more girls than guys, so I thought that was automatically a bonus. It was held in a bar in Richmond, and the idea was that you got two minutes with each girl/woman (the ages ranged quite dramatically from, say, 19 to what appeared to be 50-odd. Apparently there's a growing market for toy boys), and then you marked down on a card whether they were a 'yes,' 'no,' or 'friend.' It was rather like bingo but without the possibility of a cash prize.

So anyway, us boys had to do all the moving around, which was a bit of a pain, and the further round you got the drunker and older the women got. And I'll be blatently honest, there were some monsters there. I remember one woman who was about 20 years older than me asked what I liked doing, and I said "going to gigs," and she said "awesome!" in that kind of embarrassing why that older people do when they're trying to act young, and then suggested that we could go to a Bon Jovi gig together sometime because she loved Jon Bon Jovi. I smiled, and moved on.

So at the end of the evening I had a card full of 'friends,' which was just a polite way of saying 'no,' and that was without even getting to meet all the ladies. We ran out of time, you see, which was a bit of a pisser because there was actually one girl - girl number one - who I thought looked rather lovely.

In the days after the event, you had to upload all your 'yeses,' 'noses,' and 'friendeses' to the speed-dating website, which then cross-referenced all the data and let you know which monsters liked you, or just wanted to be your friend. The future Mrs Bon Jovi wanted to be my friend. I did not, however, want to be hers. On the other hand, it was quite a stroke to the ego to see that quite a lot of the ladies had marked me down as a 'yes.' Rawr!

Having not had the chance to meet girl number one, I threw a mild strop and decided that I didn't want anything more to do with it, though.

And then…

About a week later, I got an email from a girl who'd been there, but hadn't had the chance to meet. She was not, alas, the elusive girl number one, but did say that I'd spoken to one of her friends and she'd reported back that I was lovely. Well, duuuuuh.

So for the next couple of weeks we emailed back and forth, and got on quite well. Then she told me that she wanted to meet me. However would I recognise her, though? And then she dropped the following bombshell:

"My friends tell me I look like Elizabeth Hurley."


Hello!

So we arranged to meet up. Things did not start well.

She did not look like Elizabeth Hurley.

She looked like Carol Smiley.


I was told to expect:


And I got:


Carol frikkin' Smiley.

Now, before you all start accusing me of just going on looks alone, let me tell you that the evening completely died on its arse. We had nothing in common; she had no interest in what I did, I had no interest in what she did, there were long, awkward pauses, and she kept ordering the most expensive drink on the menu and not getting a round in herself. I was not amused. We departed promising to get in touch and meet up again, and quite tellingly neither one of us bothered.

And do you know what the worst thing was? About a year later I logged into the speed-dating website for a laugh, and super hot girl number one had emailed me shortly after I'd logged in for the last time post-'the event' to say she would've liked to meet up.

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So, anyone wondering why I was dressed as Superman/mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent over the weekend? No, it's not something I do when I'm spending the night in on my own - I went to the 20th anniversary party for They Walk Among Us, the comic shop I go to!

Look with your eyes!


This is me with Jon, who owns the shop and tolerates me going in and spending an inordinate amount of time just hanging around there on a Thursday evening. Embarrassingly, I rained on his parade a little bit by wearing exactly the same costume. In my defense, I hastily claimed to have gone as the Earth-Two Superman. Plus, he has glasses which showed a bit more dedication.

There are more photos here, but there's very little variation in the pose I'm striking throughout.

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Oh iTunes, how witty you are! I was listening to my music library on shuffle yesterday, and it followed up a Michael Jackson song with Kate Bush's 'The Man with the Child in his Eyes.'

How I laughed!