The Holidate- Mormon SpeedDating

So last night I signed up for my church congregation’s version of speed dating called The Holidate. It was four dates in one night. The first date picked up at your house and drove you to the date. The second date ate dinner with you. The third date ate dessert with you. And then you were handed a set of keys to find your fourth day, who would drive you home. I only signed up for The Holidate because my blog has been lacking some of the usual bad date flair of old.

Date #1 – He showed up to the door and we both shared similar thoughts upon meeting. My thoughts, “Gosh, he’s like a tiny little man. I feel like I’m at a 6th grade dance all over again.” He thought, “Wow, I wonder if she’s going to fit in my car. I wish I would have worn my tall shoes.” (of course, I’m making his thoughts up) He was a history teacher, so we just talked shop on the way over. It wasn’t too painful at all.

I picked up my nametag… it read Virgina. I feel like the third “i” in my name is oh-so-important. I wanted to know who failed geography and was put in charge of making nametags. For the rest of the evening I introduced myself as Vir- gina just to see the shock I would get from others.

Date #2- His name was Zion. Yes, his parents named him after the promise land. Welcome to Utah. I’d like to be able to talk more trash, except I was wearing a name tag that labeled me as genitalia. He was only 23 and had moved to Utah after losing his money in a bad business deal to work for his brother. He was my best date. As we were getting ready to move to our third date, I told Zion that I was afraid to move to my third date because I knew that I was going to get the weirdo in the congregation that wears a camelpack to church. (I’m not sure how thirsty one has to be to wear a camelpack on top of his suit jacket into church, but I’m pretty sure that I’ve never been that thirsty in my whole life. In fact, I’m certain that is just a telltale sign of crazy, kind of like having more than three cats.) A girl sitting at our table overheard my comment about not wanting camelpack boy and she quickly chastised me saying, “You should try getting to know him and you may find that you like him. Part of the whole experience of The Holidate is learning to give people a chance and getting to meet new people.” So yea, I pretty much felt like a horrible human being after that. But honestly, I learned a long time ago that if you are nice to the crazies, then they misinterpret it and you end up with a stalker.

Date #3- He was shorter than my first date but just as nice. Unfortunately, to my left sat a guy that I had gone on with a date several months ago. I referred to him as Flava-flav in a previous blog. Flava-flav’s date looked at my nametag and she started laughing. She told him that he should use it in his story. His date explained that she had just learned that he was writing a story about The Holidate. I turned to Flava-flav and asked if he was writing a piece on the amazing event we were privileged to attend. I don’t remember what he said exactly, but he alluded to the fact that he was taking my blogging lead and writing stories about the “funny” things in his life. WHAT? How did flava-flav learn about my blog? I turned red immediately knowing some of the horrible things I wrote about our date. Oops. I couldn’t even concentrate on my third date because I was so mortified that he had read my blog and may pass it on to others. Luckily, the dessert date was the shortest one.

Date #4- Some girl came by during the dessert and handed all of the girls a set of car keys. You can make a lot of assumptions by studying someone’s car keys. I learned the following things about the guy that would be taking me home:
1. There was a CAT key, which meant that my date owned or operated a piece of heavy-machinery.
2. There was a motorcycle key, which I prayed didn’t mean that I was going to have to ride home on the back of a bike in the blizzard that took place last night.
3. He shops at Albertsons Grocery.
4. There was a random key that looked broken in half. I later learned that this key went to his car, which also looked broken in a variety of ways.
I can’t complain about my last date because at least the car had a heater and got me to my front door. My date walked me up to the door, where we engaged in the awkward-hug-with-a-near-stranger routine.

The Holidate only took up three hours of my time and I only got embarrassed twice. All in all, it was worth it.