Since I had given up on online dating, I was jubilant to look at dating differently. Men were everywhere and when I looked at the streets, in bars, in pubs, and in restaurants, I discovered that London had a whole full lot of handsome men.

I didn’t need Tinder to boost my ego; the second looks of men in the street were enough; the smiles in the bars were enough; the drinks offered in pubs were enough.

I felt open to a relationship and I believed men could sense it as well. The big BUT was these men didn’t accost any women nor me. Why was this? In France, as a single woman, you’d be accosted a bit too much to my liking, but London had another sort of style. After questioning a few friends and clients, both men and women, I learned that British men, especially English men, have an incurable sickness called the flirt-phobia. The disease touches emotional men terrified of humiliating rejection. Basically, most significant relationships (without online dating) begin with the help of several bottles of wine. Yet, relationships progress at a tortoise pace, as they avoid showing their true feelings until they are confident that they will be reciprocated. Well, I was not yet out of the woods.

So, I decided to put myself in a situation where I would be surrounded by single males. I signed up for a Speed Dating Event on my own. Well, Camellia was now engaged, and Bianca was… Well, Bianca was eternally chasing for the one-night-stand.

A week before the event, I received an email from the organiser, Julia. “Hi Valérie, we are looking forward to seeing you Friday 27th November at 7 pm. We know that going to this kind of event can be dreadful, so please do not hesitate to contact your new friends for a drink beforehand: Ginger Lovelle: 07 908 ### ###. Peggy Starr: 07 908 ### ###. And Sally Macintosh: 07 908 ### ###.”

If this email was supposed to make the event less dreadful, the organiser had it completely wrong. Ginger Lovelle? Peggy Star? Where was I going? The names sounded like a porn star casting. Well, I decided to call none of them. I gathered all my courage and went on my own. Well, the day of the event, I regretted not having called any of these women. I was stressing out and the hair problem didn’t help. I finally went for the simple bun and natural makeup. I didn’t want to overdo it. I opted for my Viktor and Ross shorts and a Philipp Plein T-shirt with details on the shoulders. Simple, yet sexy, I thought.

When I reached the event, Julia (the organiser) welcomed me with a glass of champagne and introduced me to a few girls. I found it very sweet of her to help break the ice and I also thought that the event was well organised. So, I started talking with girls and immediately took a liking for Sally and Cali. We had a few laughs and a few minutes later, Julia was grabbing my hand to sit me at a table and the speed dating started almost immediately.

Well, I should say that all in all, the ratio men/women wasn’t fair. There were more women than men, making them wait for another tour. I was sat at a table, which accommodated two people. Being a woman, I was lucky enough not to play musical chairs, which made the whole game a less serious affair for us women and certainly made it look more like a nerve-wracking interview for these gentlemen.

In this instance, I had a three-minute date with each man. I was also given a sheet of paper and a pencil to circle “yes” if I liked them or “no” if I didn’t. The rule was if we both circled yes, we got each other’s contact information in an email the next day.

The champagne, the wine, the friendly atmosphere helping, I was confident and friendly. I decided not to ask any questions about their jobs. Unless that was their way of introducing themselves which for me wasn’t a good point. A job is a job; this is not who you are but what you do.

Then if it’s also your passion, I was hoping that you had other activities besides because this means that in a serious relationship, you will always put your job first and as a couple, we will have nothing to share.

The event regrouped a variety of professions; creative, fire-fighters, accountants, lawyers. I also noticed that you don’t need to be a loser to shoot a few lame lines such as: “Baby, you’re so hot, you make the equator look like the north pole,” or, “Do your legs hurt from running through my dreams all night?” or, “Excuse me, I think you have something in your eye. Oh wait, it’s just a sparkle.”

I must say, I had a lot of fun. It was different from online dating and I liked it. On Tinder, I would have looked at every single detail and speed dating gave me the chance to meet people who were also looking for a date, but instead of learning everything about them up front, I could have a proper conversation with them.

Amongst the shy, the overly-confident, the cocky, the idiot, and the womaniser, I liked two men that were kind of interesting: Alex and Steve.

Alex was very cute with wavy, curly red hair, 34, he had the freckles that went with it, very charming, 5’10, looked like a creative, shy, had two big sisters, and lived in Hammersmith. We exchanged a few jokes and were separated by Julia, as we had so much to tell about each other.

Steve was more mature. I didn’t ask his age, but he looked in his mid 40’s, maybe early 50’s. Tall, blond straight hair, magical sparkling green eyes. Steve wasn’t quite my type, but there was something quite reassuring about him. He was calm, confident, and straightforward.

The event ended. Sally and Cali came immediately back to me, all smiling. We were gossiping about the various men we liked. Wow, it seemed that we had completely different tastes, which in fact made me realise that there is a man for every woman.

After my umpteenth glass of wine, the girls and I went dancing on the dancefloor and were chatted up by the few men who liked us. To my despair, neither Alex nor Steve came to speak to me. Determined, I Ieft the dancefloor looking for them and was poked by Steve. “Great moves,” he added. I smiled. “How are you?”

Steve had such a beautiful smile and I was charmed. He grinned. “I am leaving. But I want to see you again. May I have your number?”

“Certainly,” I replied confidently. “It will be nice to meet again,” I added. I gave Steve my business card, he left, and I was happy I had a good experience with speed dating.

Sally and Cali were getting ready to go elsewhere dancing. They invited me to join them. They were going at the Shoreditch House, East End. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the other side of London. Well, as soon as I discovered that Alex was in, I was!

We took a cab to Shoreditch, we danced, ate, danced, chatted, and were chatted up by other men. We were all in a good mood and had positive vibes. Until now, Sally and Cali are still my friends and we shared amazing nights out and gatherings together. I was disappointed as I realised that Alex didn’t show any interest and decided to go home.

The following morning, I was matched with the two men I liked. I was surprised Alex liked me, as he didn’t show any initiative the night before.

A few minutes later, I received a <Hello> text signed by Alex. Then, I texted back < Would be great to grab a coffee sometime. > He responded that he was free the following week, but I was flying to Miami for an Art Show.

One month later, when I almost forgot about him, Alex added me on Facebook. I accepted his invite. Nothing happened. A few weeks later, he invited me for dinner, and this would be the most confusing date I would ever have in my life! To be continued…

As to Steve, we had a date! We decided to meet at Great Portland Street Station. I had never been out in this area of London, so I was intrigued by his pick.

Date with Steve

Saturday night. I received a call earlier from Steve to confirm the date at Green Man Pub in Fitzrovia.

Later that day, my cab was heading toward Great Portland Street. Arrived, I called Steve to know where he was sitting. He stood up. I smiled; it was nice to see him. As I approached, his clothes didn’t impress me: a red head sweatband (why?), green Graphic Print Sports Shirt, a dark orange Mod Corduroy trousers. Steve clearly called a stylist during the speed dating, as I didn’t recall this ugly sense of style. Or maybe we were heading to an 80’s party afterwards?

Steve presented his left cheek way too fast and abruptly, and unfortunately, I introduced my lips the same way, causing me to bleed and him to hold his falling denture. Steve excused himself and left running toward the bathroom. Despite, my painful bleeding lips I started laughing. I couldn’t help and alas, I couldn’t stop either. I had to ask for a glass of water to calm down. I was pissing laughing tears with my tissue in my hands still trying to stop the bleeding on my lips.

Plus, I realised that Steve left a few antics on the table: a black leather fanny pack and a Nokia 8210. God, I thought they recycled all of them. I started thinking this guy is not in his late forties. What the hell? Surely, I was still not good at guessing people’s age.

When Steve came back, he was clearly upset, though he started talking about his jobs completely deadpanned by his denture that kept moving all the way. It was clearly unstable. I couldn’t help laughing. I decided not to look at it anymore, but I was still giggling. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

It took me ten minutes to calm down. I wished I had some makeup with me. I would have washed my face with cold water. When I felt ready, I went out of the ladies and sat back at an empty table.

The waiter came to me and handed me a note from Steve. I read, “Your attitude is unacceptable and childish. I am not interested in dating you. Good luck and buy yourself a brain.” I was then laughing like crazy. I couldn’t stop! The waiter looked at me sceptically. I left the pub, grabbed a cab, and laughed on my way home. Next!