I sipped my second green apple martini, which matched my cardigan and purse, and watched "Miss Cupid" at work, tagging numbers on all the men I would soon encounter.
"Welcome, HurryDaters!" Miss Cupid called. Yes, my single life has gone on too long and I can no longer call it an act of feminism. I was on the bottom floor of a popular downtown bar. In hope to find that special someone, I signed up for HurryDate, which according to their website I'm supposed to have a blast, meet mass quantities of single people, and do it all in a hurry. What could be easier than this?
The other participating women and I were instructed to sit at different tables opposite of a man. I expected a large turnout, but instead there were about seven available males, which I could easily scroll through and say no to each one. But I decided to be a good sport, have fun, and recall the $35.00 sign-up fee.
Sitting across from man number one, Miss Cupid reminded us that we would four minutes ofRead More »from My Speed Dating Experience