epsiode 20

Unlocked?

As you know I've spent good money on the modern dating industry, and there is no way I would say it was money well spent. To be clear, I'm not saying this out of bitterness because I didn't meet anyone, I'm saying it because I think a lot of these organisations rip off vulnerable people. When I started my dating blog I had no idea where I would be going, which was part of the excitement but now there is a big part of me that feels like exposing this industry; you know 'single Faith for justice,' kind of thing. N.B. I shall not be throwing eggs, although I might get myself a cape.
One of my Myspace friends, (you know full well who you are), told me about lock and key parties. Sadly, the temptation to check it out got the better of me. Women get locks and men get keys. Are they saying that men are the key to women's freedom (when we bloody well know in most cases they are the opposite), or is it really kinky and a tiny bit seedy? I shuddered when I thought of the symbolism.
However, we booked places on one in a bar in Soho. I took the single girlfriend who always accompanies me and also a single male friend. To say our expectations weren't high would be like saying Louis Vuitton bags are quite nice.
Firstly an explanation: the lock and key thing was an icebreaker. As you walked in women were given padlocks to put around their necks, men got keys. Each time you unlocked someone you got a new key and a raffle ticket. There would be a prize at the end for the person with the most. They didn't say what the prize was.
Naturally there were plenty more women than men at the party. Needless to say this made our male friend very happy. Now my memory might be playing tricks with me but I think they might have blown a whistle to tell us to go, go go; at least everyone but us seemed to obey it.
My girlfriend and I aren't very good at these events. As our male friend flew off into the throng to be surrounded by eager women wanting to be unlocked, we sat down and drank our wine and looked around us.
'That man is definitely a potential stalker,' I said, as soon as I saw a short, creepy cross-eyed guy.
'Don't make eye contact,' she replied as we both stared at our drinks. Very soon, a short blonde man came up to us and introduced himself. He wasn't my type so I thought I would be polite but boring.
'What do you do?' I asked.
'I work in IT but I'm going to do something more creative.'
'Really? What?'
'Well I'm a philosopher/musican/artist.' Unfortunately he failed to unlock either me or my friend and after a few more boring but polite words Aristotle moved on. We decided that as much as we liked sitting down, we ought to enter into the spirit of it. We spotted our male friend who looked as if he was in mortal danger. We immediately sprung to his rescue. It seemed he had unlocked Ugly Betty and she wouldn't leave him alone. We saved him from her and her very scary cardigan.
At the bar we reviewed the evening so far. It was certainly not the most entertaining night and I am sure this column is reflecting that. My friend and I had been approached by a few men. Some had tried to talk to us as well as trying to unlock us, whereas the more competitive ones obviously had their eye firmly on the prize and as soon as the key didn't work rushed off.
We did talk to a few more guys, who again were all unsuccessful in unlocking us in every way. There was a short Chinese guy who worked in IT, followed me around a bit and said I was ravishing. There was a short guy with a plaster on his neck who worked in IT. There was a short magician who did a fabulous card trick, but we weren't quite sure why he was there, because he didn't seem to have a key or work in IT.
To cut a very long evening short, I shall sum up for all of you:
1. All the men worked in IT
2. All the men were shorter than my girlfriend (who is about five eight)
3. None of the men we talked to actually lived in London. Which was fine but we were in central London
4. None of them unlocked us either literally or figuratively.
5. I repeat one man had turned up at a dating evening with a plaster on his neck.
My tall friend moaned to our male friend (who by the way is tall, doesn't work in IT and nearly lives in central London), about how she towered over everyone. So, he took it upon himself to find us some tall men. He managed to do so, however they weren't allowed in our area as they weren't at the party.
So we all sat down as the dance floor filled with women. The tall men joined us, having snuck in. One of them was immediately grabbed by the 'dancefloor desparados' who were press ganging men onto the floor. No man was spared as they grabbed arms and tried to haul them onto their feet. Our male friend was one of their victims. For every man who was forced onto the dancefloor (and don't get me wrong they loved every minute), they were immediately surrounded by at least four women who were shaking everything God had given them in order to be noticed. I wondered briefly if you could hire them for parties.
We turned our attention to the two men who we already knew weren't at the party, weren't single and were tall. They didn't fit in at all. However, we soon discovered to our delight that they did work in IT and they didn't live in London!
As we decided to call it a night, the three of us took ourselves off to another bar for a debrief. The women were incredibly disappointed to see our friend go, and who could blame them, he was definitely the catch of the night, (he is gorgeous although there wasn't huge competition to be honest), and one ran after him and gave him her phone number as he was walking out of the door. At least one of us scored.
So, there you go. After our surliness at the cocktail and canapé night, and now this, my friend and I decided that we were definitely not cut out for dating nights, and although I am slightly tempted to go on a quest to expose them, there is part of me that can't quite bring myself to. Lock and key parties aren't something I would recommend. And I never even found out what the prize was.

Next Week: Where have all the tall men gone?