Speed dating for young professionals nyc
Of course there were a few oddballs, like the guy who was obsessed with his karate prowess and kept insinuating that his skills would come in handy to protect me on our pending second date.
But that’s how it is in any social/dating situation, and I’m sure there’s a Pink Power Ranger out there who would swoon over his high kick.
If there are no matches, you’ll never know who liked you and vice versa -- somewhat akin to Tinder. There was the guy who just moved here from Texas who taught college courses online and was going to Venice for the summer because he could work from anywhere; the man who was raised by parents in the UN who spent his childhood in France, Morocco, Dubai, Rome, and about six other places; or the man who wasn’t physically my “type,” but who made me smile with his over-the-top laugh.
Far from what I expected, the majority of guys I met were… The constant flow of visuals in front of my face was also kind of like swiping through Tinder... But here’s where speed dating is completely different (read: infinitely better) than Tinder and any other dating app -- it accounts for chemistry.
The majority of the daters at speed dating were new to the city, which makes sense -- you’re overwhelmed by the amount of people, you feel a little lost, and you want to meet someone easily.
It’s hard to imagine longtime New Yorkers signing up for speed dating, but maybe the transplants have the right idea.
Everyone was gainfully employed, sociable (mostly), and somewhat attractive (again, mostly).
Between working nights at a cafe and going to auditions on weekends, she doesn’t have any patience for the flaky daters in her life.
She was a talented musician with dreams of seeing her name up in lights.
So, of course, she moved to New York City the moment she turned 18.
At the very least, it’s nice to know there are still those out there who believe enough in finding love (or at least second date) to dress up on a Monday night to sit in a Union Square hotel restaurant and have a conversation with strangers -- without an app, and without being six beers deep.
Ten years ago, a thin 15-year-old girl in my chorus class surprised everyone when she stepped into the spotlight and belted out “Feed the Birds” like a full-grown opera singer.
Inside, it looked more or less like a restaurant preparing itself for regular dinner service (dim lighting, candlelit tables), rather than the morose, clinical vision I had concocted of name tags, clipboards, and other trappings of business conferences.