Fear and Loathing with speed dating
Epically failing in my husband hunting, my brilliant girlfriends suggested a trip to Las Vegas! A little fun in the sun was probably just what I needed to relax and do some soul searching.
Grabbing our bikini’s we arrived at the Hard Rock Hotel amidst crowds of tall tattooed hotties in town for March Madness. Imagine how lucky I felt!
Who knew hot guys liked sports so much?
After playing a few penny slots and losing enough money to buy at least three drinks at the bar, we needed to hit the pool.
Capturing the attention of several young studs in the hot tub, our little vacation was shaping up to be a lot of fun! Until one of them said “Wow! You look great for an older woman!”
Really?!?! WTF?? He was only 10 years younger than me! Am I really an “older woman” now? When did that happen?
So, what is there to do for a couple of cougars in Vegas? Speed dating.
Speed dating is an organized event where potential daters are rotated around to meet each other and have a short “date” of a few minutes to get the first impression of the other person. At the end of the evening everyone rates the people they met to determine if they would go on a real date. If there is a match, the organizer lets you know, thus upping your chance for finding love in a hopeless place. #songlyrics
We showed up late to the event because it’s hard to get four girls anywhere on time, but since we were all super hot no one seemed to mind.
Quick look? Not impressed with the goods, and there were a lot more women then men at this shindig. And not a single tattoo or 6-pack in the crowd; the only thing popping out was the butt cleavage from the big guy in the corner.
The organizer explained to us that we would have six minutes to talk to each dating dude and at the end decide who we’d like to see again. I never knew six minutes could literally be an eternity.
My first guy looked like he stepped out of a 1980’s hair band, but with wanky teeth. I was ready to give it a shot, because we’re halfway there. I tried to get past his looks and really listen to what he was saying, but it only made me stare closer into his mouth as he spoke and start to obsess about his teeth. To be fair, he was funny, but I’d be livin’ on a prayer. #songlyrics
The next potential looked about 65 and was significantly shorter than me. He said he owns a couple of gas stations and makes great money. I figured living in Vegas, his best bet might be to hit up a strip club and find a big-breasted woman to marry him and spend his money.
Suitor #3 didn’t speak English. ‘Nuff said.
Speed dating was obviously not working for the next eligible bachelor on the list because he said this was his eighth or ninth time doing this. His dedication is definitely there, but I think after the third time with no dates I’d probably try something else. I was in Vegas though; perhaps it was some kind of weird addiction, which made me wonder if there was Speed Daters Anonymous. Engrossed within my personal thoughts concerning Speed Daters Anonymous, I didn’t even realize he was still talking until I heard the 6-minute bell.
Ever wondered what it would be like to discuss different types of dog shit for six minutes? Me neither. This “date” worked as a mailman so I asked him if dogs attack him all the time. He said no, because he’s great at searching for the doggy doo to determine where the dogs hang out, how recently they were near the mail box and the size of the mutt he’s dealing with. Apparently there’s a science to it.
The next Weird Willy didn’t utter a single word in the entire six minutes. He just stared at me and smiled – no matter what I said. I asked his name, no answer. I asked how he likes living in Vegas, no answer. I asked if he was from another planet, no answer. I asked if he knew English, no answer. I asked if he enjoys blow jobs, no answer. I can ask a lot of questions in six minutes!
Following the silence was a seemingly normal guy. He was dressed nice, had a good job in the city working for the man every night and day, and never lost one minute of sleeping worrying ‘bout the way things might have been. So what was the problem? He told me he never wanted to travel, born and raised in Las Vegas and has never left. That information made the big wheel in my head just keep on turning. #songlyrics
The final wooer was gay and only attending the soiree to support his female friend. Of course, this was the only guy I would have wanted to see again (although not my type in the looks department). But, he was witty, charming, could carry on a conversation and willingly posed for a photo with my girlfriend and I.
Surprisingly I don’t hate the concept of Speed Dating. It’s like online dating, but in person. It’s something I would try again, after drinking a lot of alcohol.
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At the age of 36, Jaimie has gone on one adventure after another. Getting an idea in her head she isn’t afraid to jump into action… Usually with no planning and never considering the consequences. At 17 she left her small Iowa town to follow the band Phish and live in her car, she spent time protesting logging in Oregon, got arrested for organizing a topless march in Ohio, received a Bachelor’s degree in photography, spent a month camping in the forest at a rainbow gathering, received a Master’s degree in Music Management, managed some rock bands, modeled for Playboy, slept with a rock & roll legend a few times (hey, you would too), sold real estate in Los Angeles, bought a condo in Las Vegas and lost it to the bank when the market crashed, built her house in the Hollywood Hills in a bikini after the contractor she hired stole her money, took classes to become a magician, wrote articles and columns published in several magazines and websites, ran a production company, produced commercials with huge stars like John Stamos and Betty White and currently owns a casting company. And now she’s taking her readers with her on her next adventure: Mancation.