The following is based on actual events, but they’ve been spiced up a bit, perhaps
This week a friend of mine went speed dating. No, “my friend” isn’t me – believe me, if I ever go speed dating, I’ll be back with stories to tell, uncensored and unabashedly.
Waiting for that night to come was like plucking eyebrows – painful and tedious. What to wear? What to say? Where to look? With no talent among his co-workers and colleagues, he was ready to meet some fine looking, speed dating ladies.
As noted in the 40 Year old Virgin, this was a chance to cram years of pimpage into one evening. What a grand opporunity.
The night finally arrived and he musked up and turned the charm up to maximum. As he arrived at the speed-date-o-rama he noticed a problem. It was a sausage factory. No, not like Jimmy Dean. There were 2 girls, and 50 guys.
My friend is no fool. He’s a scientist, in fact, and he knows all about odds and probablities, so he figuratively gave speed dating the bird and left.
Maybe the speed dating gods took pity, or maybe cupid was a week early, but outside he met a very nice British girl. Of course, very nice British girl was with her roommate who is a loathsome girl that used my friend last year for his brains. The odious roommate didn’t stick around, though.
The rest of the evening very nice British girl and my friend chatted and enjoyed one another’s company.
The moral of this story – when going speed dating, think outside the box, because better options might be right out front.
Maybe I should have spiced it up more. Sorry.