You've heard it said that there are two types of people in this world, those who love Neil Diamond and those who don't. Thank you, Bob Wiley, for your wisdom. However, we relatively reasonable people know that there are lots of different kinds of people out there. Variety is the spice of life! Different is good! It takes all kinds! And my favorite, We all live in a cultural salad bowl! Well, the same is true for crazy weirdos. There are all kinds out there. If you want to discover just how many varieties of weirdo are available to you, all you need to do is sign up for some speed dating.
For those of you living peaceably under a rock somewhere and are blissfully unaware of the cultural phenomenon that is speed dating, let me give you a little primer. You write your name on a sign-up sheet. You are given a number. You sit in a large room at a long table expectantly. Women sit on one side, men on the other. You have about two minutes to casually introduce yourself to the man in front of you before another one rotates into that same seat; you have two minutes to converse; repeat. The idea behind it: you get to know 10-20 people of the opposite sex in an evening as opposed to the traditional one person. The idea itself has some potential, let's say, if the participants go through some kind--any kind--of screening process. Otherwise, it's Russian roulette, and you're going to really wish you had all the bullets by the end of the night.
So why on earth would a normal, un-inebriated person of her own free will and choice decide to participate in such an activity? Best question ever. Let me answer as succinctly and cheerfully as possible. Heartbreak--if you can call it heartbreak after just four months of emotional disconnect. Some girls dye their hair a crazy color, some get drunk. Me? I go speed dating.
My rationale: the best way to get over something like the cold, dark room of heartbreak is to get right back up on the horse, right? Right?? Oops. Turns out the best way to send yourself back into crying fits of self-pity and thoughts of becoming a lesbian or dating cats is to go speed-dating.
I knew it was a bad idea from the beginning. But something had to be done about the aforementioned feeling of out-of-control hopelessness. Anything. And then, in front of me, on the program for church, the speed dating activity appeared. Now, to understand the extreme desperation of someone seeing this as a ray of hope, let me explain my church situation. I'm LDS. I'm 31 or over. Therefore, I've been relegated to outer darkness as someone who was given the chance to get married in my 20s, but totally blew it. So now I attend the singles ward for 31-45 year olds. It could be worse, as my LDS friends of similar unfortunate demographics can tell you. It could be a singles ward for 31-100 year olds. (No joke.) In any case, when you turn 31, you can either go to your geographic home ward, or if you live in the Salt Lake, Davis, or Weber counties (that's right, three entire counties), you have the option of attending my ward.
So you have a ward of nearly 500 (!) single people aged 31-45. Let that sink in for a second. Now, anywhere you go, you're going to run into eccentric people, people who are a little off, a little socially retarded. Imagine nearly 500 single LDS virgin people in their 30s and 40s. Imagine it. Most of these are going to be women. Granted, several of these will be strange floppy hat ladies or may still have personal hygiene struggles. But I'm willing to go out on a limb and say most of the women are relatively functional in society. They own furniture. They have jobs. As for the men... Well, that appears to be a different story.
In LDS culture, especially for single LDS women in the above age bracket, good LDS men are in demand. After all, how else are we poor LDS women to be exalted (reach ultimate after-life glory) without a good LDS man? And as the simple rule of economics, supply and demand, will tell you, if supply decreases while demand increases, well...
I offer a brief analogy. Let's say suddenly the demand for Magic Bullets suddenly skyrockets because the fate of humanity in the afterlife depends solely on the acquisition of at least one Magic Bullet. But let's say it takes about 21 years to make a quality Magic Bullet. That shit's going to be expensive. Sure, you could go with a generic brand, but that'll just end in broken hearts and tears. So consumers save and save and save, and some of them are able to buy the Magic Bullets before others have saved enough. This puts the Magic Bullets currently on the market in extremely high demand. Retailers can pretty much ask whatever they want for the Magic Bullets and people will pay it. But after the available Magic Bullets are sold, what's left? Mutant Magic Bullets, warped lids, short circuits, even missing parts. Is that what I've been saving for? A freaking unusable Magic Bullet? WTF?
So speed dating. What I'm saying is these men, these men are the Mutant Magic Bullets. They're missing parts of their brains, they have warped ideas and faces, short circuited emotions. Is this really all that's left? These are my options? To go speed dating with these sad sacks of humanity? All I can do is laugh. And I did, right in the middle of it when one of the Mutants is leaning over the table, his bug eyes and halitosis invading my personal space and asks, "What are you passionate about?" I laugh. Because if I didn't laugh, I would just start digging my own grave right now. What am I passionate about? Never speed dating again. Ever. Period.
