You've gotta hand it to HurryDate. It's glaringly obvious from the get-go that these 21st century matchmakers know exactly how to market themselves, and exactly to whom.The New York City-based speed-dating event service's first Tampa shindig, held Nov. 13 at Harbour Island bar Jackson's Bistro, was both overbooked with engaging young professionals and crawling with press.
While the various forms of assisted dating have long called up visions of basement dwellers, Dungeon Masters and pimp-administered beat-downs, HurryDate has somehow successfully managed to make their parties attractive to a socially adept, upwardly mobile office-job class.
Now, how the hell did they do that? Seriously.
"That's our big secret," said co-founder Ken Deckinger through a big, big grin. "We don't have to fight (the singles-club clichés). We do everything in our power to position ourselves so we're not associated with that."
A jittery bundle of infectious enthusiasm, Deckinger started the company in 2000 with longtime chum Adele Testani. The pair struck up a relationship with NYC bar/club/lounge guide Shecky's, finding in its constituency of metropolitan night-lifers the perfect niche market for a cooler, less desperation-intensive meet-and-greet affair.
Deckinger and Testani fall within HurryDate's 25- to 35-year-old demographic. And if there's one thing young, educated professionals know these days, it's marketing. Within a year, New York HurryDates drew much more than 100 participants, and the company was launching regular schedules in multiple cities.
Debut HurryDates in new markets generally involve 50 participants, equally divided by gender, who all pay $30 to spend three minutes meeting each other one-on-one, then indicating on a scorecard whether or not they'd like to see the individuals again.
Tampa's event exceeded the norm, with 66 men and women. Two of those, "Jason68" and "Natasha28," were coerced into participation, by me, in the dubious name of journalistic posterity.
The evening began with a loosening-up period at the bar, where several male HurryDaters wasted little time in laying a little pre-main event groundwork. Corona and the house white were the preferred beverages of a casually well-dressed crowd of folks who, at a glance, didn't look like they should have any problem meeting members of the opposite sex. Several attendees vocalized their pleasant surprise at the overall attractiveness quotient.
Of course, you can't please everyone.
"You're lucky you weren't here a little earlier," exclaimed a good-looking young dolt at the next urinal. "There were a lotta hags walkin' around."
After 45 minutes or so, Deckinger cheerfully got things going by having HurryDaters sit boy-to-girl at a series of tables laid out in alphabetical order. My infiltrators endured a brief pep talk ("You're going to love this … really … just, you know, be yourself … here, slam this"), then took their places and steeled themselves for 99 minutes of introductions and inquiry.
Just as Deckinger blew his whistle to signify the first date's beginning, "Sally35" abruptly decided that maybe this was a bad idea. Who knows, it might have had something to do with the television news cameras, or maybe the plethora of still photographers. The gentle encouragement of her male companion drew only blushing, smiling resistance.
Seconds later, an exotic-looking young woman got up for another glass of wine, conveniently depriving her first suitor of two-thirds of his date.
For the next two hours, the deck of Jackson's was filled with the dull roar of halting conversation, as intrigued patrons and HurryDaters' support groups propped up the bar and watched what has to be one of the most unlikely spectator sports in recorded history.
Every three minutes, the men would shake hands with the women, thank them for their time, stand up, and move to the wrong table in their quest for the next letter of the alphabet.
The aforementioned dolt from the men's room disappeared after three dates, ostensibly disheartened by the amount of work he was apparently going to have to put in before getting laid.
I neatly evened the odds by grabbing a half-buzzed young man, in town for the auto show, and slapping my nametag (which said "Fitzgerald") on him. He gleefully joined the fray.
"Jason68" received a polite dressing-down from Deckinger on the subject of seating malfeasance when he, like almost every other male present, eventually got lost between Table E and Table F. It seemed like an honest mistake.
At various stages of the game, various HurryDaters began to exhibit telltale outward symptoms of impatience, frustration or disappointment with the occasional new partner. Some tapped their pens. Some surreptitiously rolled their eyes at their friends.
"Natasha28" took some mighty hearty swigs of her house red.
Following the final pairing, players returned to the warm embrace of those who came to mock them from the sidelines. Judging by various conversations, most of them enjoyed the experience, though it wasn't without its odd moments.
"There was this one guy who wanted to know how high up the highest pair of boots I owned went," said "Natasha28." "He asked me when was the last time I bought sexy panties."
"Jason68" was more unimpressed with the quick changes of HurryDate's setup.
"It was hectic … it was very job interview-ish," he said. "You normally don't do 30 three-minute fucking job interviews in a row."
The HurryDate powers-that-be stress the fact that their events are about fun rather than finding a mate. And, true to the company's marketing, all of the participants I spoke with claimed they came more out of curiosity than anything else.
"There's no really good reason why I came," said "Jocelyn02," an accounts manager. "We were at a party and saw the flier and decided to do it."
She admits, however, that the chance to meet men in an alternative sort of context was part of the attraction for her and her friends.
"We don't have boyfriends, so every weekend we go out. We saw it as a new and different opportunity."
"But you can't meet Mister Right in three minutes," added "Shannon03."
By all accounts, HurryDate's Tampa debut was a success, with the company making a big splash with exactly the sort of social spectrum that Deckinger intended.
"That's what it's all about," said Marcia Simmons, HurryDate's Tampa liaison. "Meeting cool people."
HurryDaters themselves had to wait about 24 hours to find out how many cool people they really connected with. The company takes everyone's scorecard, then e-mails partiers the names and e-mail addresses of the people among those they selected who selected them as well.
By the way, my covert ops team ended up doing fairly well for a couple of people who both claim they wouldn't attend such a shindig under normal circumstances. "Jason68" and "Natasha28" both scored four matches.
HurryDate's next Tampa event is scheduled for Dec. 11. For more information, or to make reservations, log on to www.hurrydate.com.
Contact Staff Writer Scott Harrell at 813-248-8888, ext. 109 or scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Nov 20-26, 2002.