Not-So-Sexy Singles

Not only does the college of my choice want me to have a secure meal plan and a printed syllabus, they also want me to have a date. Hence:

SPEED DATING.

I've been here for what? Three days? And already the fact that I'm single has been deemed unacceptable. Merely staring at cute boys while fantasizing their arms around me at the head of a giant ship doomed to sink is soooooo high school. Now, in college, that's right college, wait what? COLLEGE, BABY. COLLEGE. I apologize. Anyway, college students don't wait around for someone to make a move. They're the move makers, man. And the money maker shakers if you see them at a party. High school awkwardness is just a thing of my past. Hence:

SPEED DATING.

Now, I'd seen it in the movies. Okay, I'd seen it in THE movie. As in one movie. As in not the greatest example to promote speed dating. Would I meet a Gina who pronounces it with a long I? Would my chest be hanging out of my shirt without me knowing it? The curiosity was killing me. I had to know. I had to. Would I meet the love of my life? Would I meet the man of my dreams? Would I meet Hugh Jackman's clone? There was only one way to find out. Hence:

SPEED DATING.

It started with the name tags. Already I was stepping out of my comfort zone.

Where do I put this damn thing? If I put it on my stomach, when I breathe in and out it'll look like my name tag is alive. If I put it on my chest, I'll either look like I'm a slut who wants guys to look at my chest or I'll look like I had nowhere else to put it and guys will be looking at my chest. Either way, chest glances are evident. I could put it on my face to avoid body glances in general but one, body glances would be happening no matter what; two, when I took it off I'd had a red rectangle imprinted into my skin, and three, I'd look like a fucking idiot.

I put it on my shoulder.

Then came the people. Masses upon masses of not-so-sexy singles who most likely were thinking, "Man, look at all these babes!" while all the babes were thinking, "WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE BABES." Yes, the male-to-female ratio was both pathetic and apathetic. I personally didn't give a shit if Hugh Jackman doesn't actually have a clone, (well, I may give a little shit); I was there more for speed friending. DING! And then it began.

It started out in groups of 4, you know, to warm everyone up until they felt brave enough to flirt on their own. I got lucky enough to sit next to a girl who had a lot on her mind that she obviously wanted to get out.

"Hey! I'm Natasha!"

"Hi I'm John---"

"Hi I'm Colette and I'm a freshman and I was really nervous about coming here but now that I'm here I'm really glad I came here so I can meet new people because no one from my high school is going here and I'm all alone but that doesn't really bother me because I like meeting new people I just don't want to shake anyone's hand because my hands get really clammy and that's why I have this cup of ice water in my hands because I'm hoping the cold water will make my hands cold instead of hot and sweaty and then I can shake people's hands and it might be weird that my hands are freezing but I think that would be a good conversation starter like wow your hands are cold and I'll be like yeah my hands are really clammy but that's why I have this ice water because I'm thinking that if I hold this ice water then my hands---"

She gave this same speech for the first 5 rounds. I did not get one fucking word in. Thank god this isn't slow dating.

DING!

Then the solo rounds began. And I realized I had taken Clammy Hands Colette for granted.

"Hey! I'm Natasha!"

"I'm a nerd. We wouldn't have anything in common."

DING!

"Hey! I'm Natasha!"

"Hi I'm Bob and I live at 345 Bruster Building if you wanna stop by because I'd like to get to know you more or actually you can just tell me your address and I can stop by sometime."

DING!

"Hey! I'm Natasha!"

"I know."

"What?"

"You live in Melson View Estates."

"YEAH!"

"654."

"Yeah..."

"Yeah."

DING!

"Hey! I'm Natasha!"

"That's a sexy name, Natasha."

"Thank you."

"Sexy name for a sexy lady."

"Thank you."

"How bout we leave this place and go up to my room and smoke a bowl."

"NO thank you."

DING!

Speed Dating turned out to be more of Speed Creeping Me The Fuck Out and I left still single, still in a name tag, and still Hugh-less. At least my hands weren't clammy.