women gathered in the back room of a Manhattan bar to engage
in a peculiar ritual known as speed-dating. They were all young
professionals in their twenties, a smattering of Wall Street types
and medical students and schoolteachers, as well as four women
who came in a group from the nearby headquarters of Anne
Klein Jewelry. The women were all in red or black sweaters,
and jeans or dark-colored pants. The men, with one or two
exceptions, were all wearing the Manhattan work uniform of a
dark blue shirt and black slacks. At the beginning they mingled
awkwardly, clutching their drinks, and then the coordinator of
the evening, a tall, striking woman named Kailynn, called the
group to order.
Each man would have, she said, six minutes of conversation
with each woman. The women would sit for the duration of the
evening against the wall on the long, low couches that ringed
the room, and the men would rotate from woman to woman,
moving to the next woman whenever Kailynn rang a bell,
signaling that the six minutes were over. The daters were all
given a badge, a number, and a short form to complete, with
the instruction that if they liked someone after six minutes,
they should check the box next to his or her number. If the
person whose box they checked also checked their box, both