A while ago, if you had suggested I go on a speed dating event, I would have likely been offended.

Am I that pathetic or desperate to participate in the ‘lowliest, most humiliating’ form of dating? Am I the leftover of society? Are the men who go to such events the ‘runt of the litter’?

But this digital invitation caught me off guard – it had a young design and seemed legit.

My curiosity was piqued, and my 31-year-old single self locked my pride and prejudice away long enough to bravely ask:

“What is so wrong with speed dating? If I haven’t tried it, I can’t rule it out.”

So I contacted the organizers. After hearing them express the same ‘single life’ frustrations as me, the organizer met my apprehension and embarrassment over attending with one simple sentence:

“I’m 35 – I don’t have time to be embarrassed.”

Letting go of my ideal meet-cute, I registered for my first-ever Messianic speed dating event, or in other words – I had a date.

And why not? Only in the 1920s had...

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