During freshman orientation week, the university had planned a ton of get to know you activities so that we could make friends and feel at home. One of them was "play fair" where you run around the gym like an idiot. Another was the new student week dance, which all upper classmen refer to as "the hump fest," and then there was speed dating.
I tried to get my roommate to attend speed dating with me, but she didn't want to for some reason (which was really odd, because of the two of us, she definitely seemed more likely to attend). I can't believe I had enough courage to go alone. So I get to the student center where there's like 200 people waiting in line, popping Listerine strips and practicing their smile. There were so many students, they had to shut the doors and promise a second session in an hour. But I got in.
There I am, sitting in front of these guys, telling them my 40 second life story. We were given this sheet of paper and we were supposed to mark down the numbers of the people we liked. Top secret, you know? To avoid that awkward "I like you but, oh wait, you don't like me back?" thing. The people on SAB would then go through the next week and see if there were any matches. If the guy also liked you, he would have put your number down, and you'd live happily ever after.
So there I am. Same basic schpeel most of the time. What city are you from? What's your major? What do you like to do in your free time? Blah blah blah. I think I marked down like 6 prospects. One of them I soon thought to be gay (see the story "He's not gay after all"), one of them ended up becoming a good friend of a friend, and the other two I can't remember.
That leaves one. Probably the only reason I remember him is because he had a Superman symbol tattoo on his bicep. We talked about it. He was blond. He was also probably in love with me, but our future love was foiled by the cunning members of SAB.
Because I checked my mailbox for three weeks after, and no results ever showed. Not even a "sorry, but nobody liked you at all" message. I don't know if any of the guys whom I speed-dated that night liked me or not. They probably thought I didn't like them, because they never got a match confirmation in their tuna-can-sized university supplied mailbox. So they never talked to me again.
Thus, the course of my life was forever changed. I mean, heck, maybe I would have been married to Superman-tattoo-guy by now if SAB had actually finished what they started and sent out the matches. What I think happened was they got so overwhelmed by how many people showed up that the task of going through the paperwork afterward seemed monumental. So they didn't do it. Should have thought of that before you told everyone to secretly write down their crushes. I mean, what SAB should have done was say "if you find someone you like, make sure you get their contact info." Or like, follow them to their dorm residence after so at least you know where they live (this was before stalking people on Facebook became popular). But they didn't. We all thought we were being super stealth speed daters.
And now there are like, 432 people walking around wondering what could have been. Or at least, there is one.
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