daters would be notified of the other’s e-mail address within
twenty-four hours. There was a murmur of anticipation. Several
people made a last-minute dash to the bathroom. Kailynn rang
her bell.
The men and women took their places, and immediately a
surge of conversation filled the room. The men’s chairs were far
enough away from the women’s couches that the two parties
had to lean forward, their elbows on their knees. One or two of
the women were actually bouncing up and down on the sofa
cushions. The man talking to the woman at table number three
spilled his beer on her lap. At table one, a brunette named
Melissa, desperate to get her date to talk, asked him in quick
succession, “If you had three wishes, what would they be? Do
you have siblings? Do you live alone?” At another table, a very
young and blond man named David asked his date why she
signed up for the evening. “I’m twenty-six,” she replied. “A lot
of my friends have boyfriends that they have known since high
school, and they are engaged or already married, and I’m still
single and I’m like — ahhhh.”
Kailynn stood to the side, by the bar that ran across one wall
of the room. “If you are enjoying the connection, time goes
quickly. If you aren’t, it’s the longest six minutes of your life,”