Sorry Aunty We’re Not A Match

I was excited to attend this matchmaking event. After all, I exhausted everything else out there. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but kept reminding myself to keep an open mind. It was at an Islamic Convention, and I had high hopes. So, I paid the fee and hoped for the best.

I noticed they were hosting multiple matrimonial events. So, either they were having great success, or just milking the crowd. Regardless, I kept a close eye on the clock, and made sure I was there on time. I got there in the afternoon. They kept the doors closed and didn’t let anyone in early. Once they opened the door people started flooding in. There were profiles posted on the wall, ladies seated at tables, and arrows directing people where to go. The picture was starting to become clear. I just walked into a speed dating event. I already paid the fee. So, there was no point in trying to walk out now. Finally, one of the volunteers grabbed the mic. He explained how the event was supposed to go.

He says, “If you’re over the age of thirty-two go right. Otherwise go left.” I turned right. Everyone is instructed to complete a Bio-Sheet. This sheet details all the basic information about yourself: age, occupation, goals, etc. The men will have five minutes to talk to the lady across them then move down to the next possible match. My nerves were kicking in, but I kept pushing myself to go through with this. Who knows, this could be the day I find my match.

So, I sat there with the first lady. We cover all the basics: age, occupation, goals, etc. All the stuff we could cover in five minutes. Each match went the same. Conversations would rarely go deep. But there was one lady. I sit down, look at her sheet, and next to her age it says fifty-two! She sees my sheet, and there’s instant silence. The next five minutes were probably the longest of my life. I grasped at straws trying to find something to talk about. I learned that she was a teacher, had been through divorce (I think), and was trying to start over. Plus, she had an accent, which made communication even more difficult. We somehow managed to survive those five minutes. I continued moving through the event.

The rest of the event went on like a fish market; men hunting for their prey, women skimming through profiles trying to match faces. Needless to say, I didn’t find a match, but I learned a valuable lesson: That I had to be wary of speed dating events that were disguised as matrimonial events. But I was itching to find something better.