CHAPTER 9

My weekend at home was gloriously restful. Apart from walking the dog with my mum on Sunday morning, I did impressively little moving. Mum made me chicken pie and mashed potato for dinner. She brought me cups of tea and dunking cookies. She even let me sit in her usual spot on the sofa. The best seat in the house.

But the issue with going home at the weekend is how blue it makes me feel on Sunday afternoon, a deep navy blue that bleeds into the start of the week, meaning Tuesday and speed dating has rolled around a lot more quickly than anticipated and I’m not emotionally sharp enough to be my most charming self.

The situation is made even worse by the fact I’m the last of my friends to still be single, meaning I couldn’t find anyone to take the second ticket I’d purchased in the hope of not being alone at an event for people who are alone. What possessed me to even buy one ticket?

What have I done?

I breathe and try to quiet the anxious part of my brain.

As soon as I enter the room, I am immediately glad I decided to come late, as late as possible to avoid the awkward pre-speed dating chat/lack of chat. And there is wine. Horrible, horrible wine I imagine, but wine nonetheless.

I look around the room as I head to collect my drink. It’s busy but everyone I can see seems quite normal. I check out the girls first; I want to gauge the competition. I would say we are all within the median range, a solid four to seven rating. It’s a good thing I didn’t bring Penny; she’s more like a nine and nobody here wants a nine. Probably not the boys, and definitely not the girls.

The boys also appear to be fairly average, which is a good thing. There is one ginger and a couple of people who definitely have issues with keeping eye contact. On the whole, an encouraging bunch of singles.

With a loud clang, we are called to order, and all the awkward conversations come to a sputtering stop. Personally, as soon as I had my glass of wine in hand, I busied myself by searching for nothing in my bag, and therefore also managed to avoid the awkward stop to the awkward conversations.

Someone with a very enthusiastic face starts talking.

‘Hello! Welcome! Welcome! For anyone who’s new to Speedy Dating, the rules are simple!’ She shimmies like a belly dancer as she says ‘Speedy Dating’, which makes me feel even less comfortable with my choice of evening entertainment. ‘You were each given a number when you arrived; this is the number of the table you’ll start at. At each table you’ll find paper and pencils so you can write down notes on each person. Once the dating is done, you’ll have twenty-four hours to go back online and mark down anyone you liked, and matches will then be able to message each other. When I stop talking, go to the table with your number on it. Girls, please sit down in the outer circle, and boys, please sit opposite. I will then ring the bell – this will signal the start of your first five-minute date! I will ring the bell again when the five minutes are up. Boys, you’ll be the ones moving, so I’ll give you a bit of time between rounds to move on to the next table and begin again! And boys – move to the right! OK. I’ll stop talking now. So, ready, set, date!’