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NOTE: STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. FUNNY AS HELL, BUT EXPLICIT.


When I heard about 3-min dating, I immediately recognized it for what it is: possibly the perfect forum for my humor. I can think of no better way for me to avoid the consequences of my charm and wit. I get to talk to 30 different women for three minutes apiece, drop a few quips and/or insults, and then move on. What could be better?

I went with my friend "Bret.” He agreed to go with me, under the condition that he not go immediately after me in the dating line. His reasoning, "I don't want the girls to be vomiting from shock when I talk to them."

We arrive about 15 minutes early, and procure beers. The company sponsoring the event is called HurryDate, and there is a host, Phil, and a hostess, Jodi. I start talking to Jodi, because, well, she was really good looking, and I like talking to good-looking girls. I don't remember how our conversation got started, but for some reason, Jodi says something about a g-spot. Always trying to be helpful, I tell her that a man's g-spot is in his ass. She tells me she knows this, and that there are certain types of anal stimulation that can make guys come so hard that they pass out. She tells me that she knows this because she saw it happen to a guy at a sex toy party with anal beads.

WOW. Now THIS is the way to start a night.
 

Everyone takes a seat, and Phil and Jodi introduce themselves. Phil is good-looking, meticulously dressed, was previously Wisconsin Bachelor of the Year, works as a fashion consultant, and speaks with a lisp. Yeah, he's not gay.

Jody is very attractive, doesn't have a boyfriend, was the Minnesota Goat Milking Champion in high school, and goes to sex toy parties. I bet she's emotionally stable! I honestly don't remember what she does for a living; I was too busy staring and objectifying her to pay attention to anything she said.

Phil goes on to explain how 3-min dating works. The women all sit at different tables, and every guy spends three minutes talking to every girl. After each 3-min "date," a whistle blows, and each guy moves on to the next girl. Each person wears a numbered nametag, and you mark 'Yes' or 'No' on a scorecard if you want to see them again. Within 48 hours of the event, the organizers send you the e-mail addresses of those whose "Yes" columns match up with yours. He concludes the instructions by trying to make a joke:

"Guys, if you get confused as to where to go next, just follow the guy in front of you."

I immediately yell out, "The last time I did that I got syphilis."

Everyone looked at me, and I took my rightful position as 'That Guy.'

The quality of the girls was much better than I had anticipated. I had expected the ladies to look like something out of Jabba the Hut's bar, but, honestly, there were some very attractive women there. Not many, but three or four are much better than none.

I started off pretty hot, and as I drank more, I only got hotter. Some of the funnier things I said to the girls:

-"I was kinda afraid to come to this, because it sets up high expectations. I can't normally last three minutes."
-"This is the first time I've ever talked to a woman without having to use a credit card."
-"Am I supposed to tell you if I have genital warts? Is that part of the rules?"
-"Does transsexual porn turn you on as much as it does me? Boy, I just can't get enough of that."
-"Pursuant to Megan's Law, I am obligated to tell you that I am a convicted sex offender."

One of the fun parts is that you get the same questions from girls over and over, the two main ones being, "Have you ever done this before," and "What do you do?" I got bored answering them, so I came up with more interesting answers. Some examples:

Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"
Me "No. I'm just here for the free beer."
Girl "We don't get free beer."
Me "So I paid $30 just to talk to you?!? Oh...that's a treat."

Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"
Me "No, never. I was supposed to do it last month, but my damn herpes flared up, so I waited until they went away. That Valtrex isn't as good as advertised. I can't kickbox or kayak."

Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"
Me "No. I haven't dated for years. My fiancé died last week, and my friend thinks this will help me cope."

Girl "So, have you ever done this before?"
Me "Done this before? I don't even know where I am. I just woke up, I feel strange, and I think I'm missing a kidney. You haven't seen any Chinese organ thieves running around have you? Maybe carrying a cooler with them?"

Girl "What do you do?"
Me "I kill old people for insurance money."

Girl "What do you do?"
Me "I defend people arrested for juvenile sex crimes. Those guys sure know how to party."

Girl "What do you do?"
Me "Just waiting for my parents to die."

Girl "What do you do?"
Me "I used to be a Catholic priest, but I got out. With the recent scandals, there's really no fringe benefits to the job anymore."

I would eventually tell them that I'm a writer. The next question was "What do you write?" Some answers:

-"I mostly write homosexual erotica. When do we get to talk to the men here?"
-"I do a lot of freelance work for Cat Fancy."
-"I write dialogue for snuff films."
-"I spend most of my time writing to prison inmates."

I'll tell you what; if you enjoy talking about yourself, this is the venue for you. The sad part is that I don't have many good quotes from the girls; I was so manic they barely had time to talk. I didn't think three minutes was enough time actually. I had so much material, and all of it was re-usable. That was the best part; I could drop a great quote on a girl, and then use it again on the next one.

A few girls did stand out to me. One in particular. Not because she was attractive. Hardly. But she was the only one who got mad at me for making jokes. Most of the girls thought I was hilarious, or at least they pretended to laugh at my jokes. But she was none too pleased by my humor. It went like this:

Her "What do you want to know about me?"
Me "I don't know...what do you think about when you masturbate?"
Her "What?!?"
Me "You know you masturbate. Don't say that you don't. Admit that you masturbate."
Her "NO."
Me "There are only two types of liars, those that say they don't and those that say they quit."
Her "What? We're supposed to be getting to know each other, and you're just making jokes. I feel like you aren't taking this seriously."
Me "We have three minutes. What do you want from me? Look, if you don't think I'm funny, then you don't want to get to know any more about me. It only gets worse from here."

Another girl told me she had two cats, and their full names were Kathleen Lulu Dubowski and Jersey Lemon Dubowski. I couldn't make this shit up. My question to her, "Why would you own cats? Do you enjoy having big boxes of shit all over your house?"

One girl who was possibly more manic than me started blabbering on and on about her beliefs. Needless to say, they were idiotic. I finally had to set her straight:

Her "I definitely believe in fate."
Me "Do you believe that fate brought us together?"
Her "Oh yeah."
Me "Fate must hate you."

When we came to the end, I realized that I hadn't kept track of the girls’ numbers. Super. There were actually three or four girls that I was interested in, but I had no idea which numbers they were, so I didn't know what to mark down on my sheet. I ended up working off of my friend Bret's notes that he took on every girl, and marked four that I thought were the same ones I was interested in.

I got the email from HurryDate a few days later, and all of the girls I marked had also put me down. I haven't emailed any of them, for two reasons: 1. I'm not exactly sure who is who, and 2. I am an asshole.

I think they realized this also, because none of them have emailed me. All in all, I give the 3-min dating experience high marks, for the simple fact that I got to talk about myself and crack jokes for three hours.



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