Armed with a pen and notepad and a bright pink cosmopolitan (but sans the overpriced Manolo Blahnik heels), I can’t help feeling a bit like Carrie on “Sex and the City,” ready and eager for my next episode of hands-on research and analysis.
My investigation begins at a small, circular table in the dimly lit back room of 1751 Social Club, a hip San Francisco restaurant/bar with cool, primary-colored paintings and voluptuous red curtains, where I’m sitting and waiting for him, or, more accurately, waiting for them.
Tonight I’ll be meeting not one but 15 young, available Jewish men for a grand total of four minutes each. Afterward, I’ll score them with a “Y” or an “N” and decide if I want to see them again. They’ll decide the same for me.
Welcome to the world of HurryDate — the newest, fastest and touted as the most efficient form of merged online/offline dating (both Jewish and non-Jewish). It’s perfectly tailored for the new millennium’s crop of jet-setting professionals and clever enough to knock the socks off of Yente the matchmaker herself.
HurryDate is the brainchild of Adele Testani and Ken Deckinger, New Yorkers and longtime friends (though not romantically involved). They came up with the concept after several years of successful matchmaking between friends and a realization of their intuitive knack for organizing parties.
“I believe that dating is a numbers game, and you need to meet as many people as possible,” Deckinger said in a recent phone interview. “Plus, our society is becoming busier and busier, people work harder and longer and we have less time in our lives in general. Our population tends to stay single longer, and so our dating methods have evolved.”
If it sounds a lot like SpeedDating, it is and it isn’t, say Testani and Deckinger. “The whole SpeedDating concept was originated by a rabbi in Los Angeles,” says Deckinger. But while there are similar dating services out there, he believes HurryDate provides the “most fun and crazy atmosphere, and is the first to successfully unite both online and offline components in such a streamlined way.”
Here’s how HurryDate works: You browse the profiles and parties on HurryDate.com and sign up for an event in your area), pay the price ($27.75 for members and $37 for non-members), and show up. Depending on how many other singles sign on for the party, you’ll be paired with as many three- to four-minute dates as possible. At the end of the evening, you mark which ones you like, which ones you don’t, log on to HurryDate’s Web site, and make your selections. Of course, it’s up to the other person to decide whether they’re up for a second, longer date as well.
Deckinger, who is Jewish, thinks the Jewish community in general is used to introducing people in non-traditional ways. He believes in maintaining a strong Jewish identity, in meeting and marrying Jewish singles.
“For the past five years, my parents have been trying to set me up with every Jewish girl in their neighborhood,” he said. “They live in Boca Raton, Fla., so there’s quite a few.”
To my surprise, the HurryDate crowd at the Jewish-themed party I attended turned out to be a group of young, quite normal, fashionable and, most importantly, intelligent men and women. The atmosphere — enhanced by the Social Club and a couple of drinks — proved relaxing and non-confrontational.
After calming my pre-blind-date (multiplied by 15) jitters and walking through the door, the first person I met was Jaime. She was sitting at the bar with several other women who had arrived early. Like a preteen at a junior high dance, I migrated toward my own kind and sat by Jaime.
Both she and I had never been to HurryDate or any other similar dating event before. She had heard about it through a friend, who’d tried it and liked it.
“I was talking to my friend, and I was saying how I thought there was something demoralizing about this whole thing,” Jaime said, waving her hand in the air to signify the bustling “HurryDaters.”
“But then my friend told me, ‘Jaime, in a few years, our kids will be, like, ‘But how else would you meet someone?'”
We talked, sipping our drinks, until we were called to the back room, where the real HurryDating was to take place.
Our vivacious host, Jordan, led each female participant to her own table, labeled by a place card with a letter.
After the women arranged themselves, the men each picked a table (and a woman) and sat down.
HurryDate began with Jordan’s blow of a small whistle with a surprisingly loud noise.
Each couple began to talk one-on-one until, just four minutes later, Jordan blew the whistle and the men, like it or not, rotated in alphabetical order to meet the next awaiting bachelorette.
This went on for more than an hour: I talked to Elliot, Malcolm (who lived in Israel and could converse in Hebrew), James and Joe (a musician and the only artist in the lot).
There was an overwhelming but not surprising number of men from the East Coast who were connected in one way or another to software companies.
My mini-conversations were mostly short and pleasant, but at some point I started feeling the “Groundhog Day” scenario coming to life. Repeatedly, I was asked if I was from Israel (how could they tell?) and subjected to the usual first-date talk of, “So, what do you do and where do you live?”
One nervous guy sat at my table (I’ll protect the innocent and not mention his name) and immediately waved his shaky hand, spilling my drink on my shoes and purse.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, grabbing a pile of napkins and handing them to me.
He spent the next four minutes apologizing.
After several whistles’ worth of small talk, my next HurryDater, Jeremy, sat down at my table like a breath of fresh air.
“OK,” he said, “I’m not going to ask you what you do. Let’s talk about something else.”
Jeremy had a bit more “joie de vivre” than the rest — our four minutes passed quickly and I discovered that his real passion, like mine, is writing. In fact, he had recently taken some time off from work to write a novel.
Afterwards, though, I found out that Jeremy was an “emergency” participant. In other words, he was called in at the last minute because more women than men had initially signed on (a near-perfect proportion is needed for a successful HurryDate party).
Still, my brief conversation with Jeremy was invigorating and proved that, though it seems superficial, four minutes is the perfect amount of time to get to know someone.
As Deckinger says, you’re not trying to decide whether to marry them or not, you’re just determining if you’d like to see them again. Three minutes can fly by or last an eternity, depending on whether it’s a good connection or not.
After the last blow of the whistle, I got up and hung around just long enough to find my new friend Jaime in order to say goodbye.
To be honest, HurryDate was a thousand times more classy and enjoyable that I had expected. I had a few moments of boredom, but overall the atmosphere was fun and comfortable and the men respectful and polite.
Jaime’s comments at the start of the evening hinted at the stigma people associate with online and “fast” dating innovations such as HurryDate.
I tend to think there’s nothing shameful or disgraceful about meeting someone in non-traditional means. Besides, it could well be that our definition of traditional is in fact metamorphosing into a new, more technologically and time savvy ritual.
For those rushing from airport to airport, working 12-hour days or just plain in a hurry to meet someone — young, Jewish or otherwise — in a fun and relaxed atmosphere, HurryDate is an ideal use of time.
That is, of course, if you don’t mind the shrill pitch of a whistle marking the end of your date – over and over and over again.