It was dreadful

I did the speed-dating thing. I will never, ever be doing such a thing in Frederick, Maryland ever again, even if they never have another event anywhere else.

Minor screwup to start off the evening: apparently they'd sent the address and directions of the wrong Holiday Inn to the participants. Frederick has two, and of course, we all showed up at the other one, because we were told to.

After that minor delay, I got to the right venue and almost immediately wanted to leave. The event was "age 36 to 49 professionals," and I took it quite seriously. I had the suit cleaned, the white shirt starched, and I looked damn good. I guess the definition of "professional," at least in look, has some other meaning in Frederick, because of the nine women who showed up, none looked like they'd been to work that day. Yeah, yeah, "casual business attire," but frankly, FUCK "casual." This was advertised as a dating event, and nobody looked like anyone I'd even look twice at on the street, let alone date.

Oh, the warpage of the term "professional" went further, though. Two of them were "professionals" in the sense that they processed claims at the same insurance company. See also, "glorified clerks who put on airs." Another was a "professional" dispatcher for the local gas utility. You could almost see where the headset left a crease in her hairspray. Another had truly garish jewelry and lipstick so badly applied it looked like she'd collided with a pint of overripe red raspberries.

You have never seen more sequined sweaters, bad makeup and frosted hair in your life, unless you've been to a mall in northern New Jersey recently.

It wasn't all about appearances. Most of the women had pretty obnoxious accents and couldn't make decent conversation, and one was the dreaded forty-something/never-married, and I could figure out almost immediately why. She couldn't talk, couldn't listen, couldn't focus her eyes. I was almost worried she might be retarded or something.

Half the women had children living with them at home, and the other half owned dogs. The only woman who remotely interested me turned out to be separated -- not divorced -- and had two little yappy dogs and three children living with her.

At the end of the evening, we handed in our sheets, and one of the event coordinators came over to me rather concerned and said, "you didn't check off anyone to say you wanted to talk to them again!" I just told them, well, nobody really interested me. I'd hope I didn't interest anyone there, really. I just want to forget the evening altogether. I went over to Pargo's and had a cocktail and watched the Heat and the Pistons play, and to imagine better things.

Judgmental, am I? That's the whole point of such an evening: throw a bunch of people together and encourage snap judgments. I really, really wanted to like some of these women but just knew there was no point to check off the "Let's talk... again!" box on the form. Just no point.

I could see doing this somewhere else, like perhaps DC or Arlington, or even Leesburg, but never, ever again in Frederick. I may live near there, but I just don't think I will find my mate there. All the good ones are already taken. All that's left is... what's left.