The Science of Blind Dating

I have a confession to make. I go on internet dates. And why not? It’s a perfectly reasonable way to meet people in this new century and have a reasonable expectation that you’ll at least have enough in common to sustain a dinner conversation. I’ve started a few good relationships this way. A few have lasted as friendships. What makes the whole endeavor truly sporting is the ever-present threat of a Really Bad Date. On more than one occasion, I’ve found myself trapped at a restaurant, puzzling over what crazy computer monkey thought we’d be a good match, only to leave wondering, “What did she think about that car wreck of a date?”

Rubbernecking is the main appeal of the Washington Post’s newish Sunday feature, Date Lab, wherein our favorite community newspaper sets up two complete strangers based upon some dubious shard trait or desire, and then documents all the gory details.

Take, as a deliciously typical example, the young woman who wanted to be set up with a Jewish doctor. Quickly, she finds, “he monopolized the conversation and totally excluded me. And he asked why I wasn’t showing any cleavage.” (“It was totally within context at the time, but I can’t remember how,” he defends.) Each column ends with the Date Lab Rats rating the experience (“I’d rate the evening a 3 [out of 5]. We’re not the best match, but I’m not entirely convinced that if I went out with him again, it’d be awful.”), and a post-script updating our potential couple’s follow-up. In this case, our young woman e-mailed the Jewish Doctor, “listing 14 things he’d done that ‘you should never ever do on a first date.'”

So it goes, week in and week out. It’s a comforting format, one which helps us imagine how to fill in the blanks from our own (non-major-media-sponsored) blind dates. The Date Lab Rats are interviewed a few days later, and the column is structured chronologically in a “he said / she said” format, which really brings out the venom. Take these (revisionist) first meetings:

“From the first glance, it was like, It ain’t happening . There was an awkward moment — mutual disappointment or surprise or whatever. Physically, Jennifer was fine. But I wasn’t expecting a white girl.”

“I had a good eight inches on him. I think the date was over before it really started.”

He was in a shirt and tie; he looked like any generic guy in D.C. Looks-wise, he’s the type of guy that I’d end up dating, but I wouldn’t say, ‘That’s what I’m looking for.'”

“She was okay. She had a nice smile. But she was heavier than I thought she’d be.”

Ultimately, there’s the wonderfully awkward parting of the ways:

“I think he would have gone in for a kiss, but I just went into a hug.”

“I thought we’d at least exchange numbers. Instead, we had a weird hug — he only used one arm — and that was it.”

“He walked me to my car and said, ‘I’ll see you in the paper.'”

“Then, as I prepared to hug her goodbye, she said, ‘Here, take [my number] down.’ I could have said I wasn’t interested, but that would’ve been rude.”

“I may have to go back and talk to the hostess, though. She was a sista with dreadlocks. Definitely my type: young, cute and skinny.”

And, best of all, what all dates need: A rating on a scale of one to five!

“I’d give it a 4 out of 5, because I was surprised we were able to talk for so long.”

“I’d rate it a 2.5…I almost can’t call it a date: We were two people who met for dinner and went through the interview.”

“I’d give the date a 4 [out of 5]. I’d definitely like to see him again. And he was interested — he wouldn’t have given me his number if he wasn’t.”

It’s enough to tempt me to move to D.C. just to participate in Date Lab. At the very least, I’ll continue to read every cringe-inducing moment every Sunday morning.