Love express

At the time I did it, it seemed to be an utterly desperate step, but at the same time it promised unimaginable fun. It was not your typical day at the mall, or coffee-and-cupcake time with friends. And it was not a night of timeless chat with pals whining about the same old boo-hoos and all. It was the night when I sort of stepped on the gas pedal and did a little speedy trip down lovers’ lane.

It happened right after I broke off a wedding engagement last year and I found myself in the company of friends who were so worried and affected by it as much as I was. They egged me to get back into the “market” ASAP—that is, to be taken home, to be taken cared of, to be nurtured, to be loved and be in love again. To tell you the truth, they made me feel somehow like I needed to put up a streamer announcing a “70-percent off” my worth and a red marked-down price tag on my butt (no, I didn’t want the tag on my eyes, they are probably my body’s sexiest part) and that was it, I’d be ready to get back behind the show window. (I thought of telling them, just make sure, after the sale I’m delicately wrapped in a decent paper bag with a pink ribbon.)

The problem was, I didn’t know my worth then, so it was a little difficult to figure out how to close that sale—that is, if any offer would come by. Anyway, their sincere concern was moving, though their proposition was crazy, really crazy—but my friends loved me, which was what actually mattered most, which was why the whole idea of getting back into the market was not so much of a priority. But these friends, believe me, they were relentless.

So I signed up for a Speed Dating event (yep, you heard me right, Speed Dating), hoping to partake of the Amnesia Girl phenomenon, although I was clueless, scared and hesitant of the whole idea. I got into the venue on the dot, but when I arrived, these old men drinking inside the bar gave me the creeps. Was I really this desperate? Oh, please!!! What was I thinking?

So I went to some other place for a massage instead to regain my composure and then decided to go home. But these relentless friends had driven all the way to the “event” to make sure I’d be there. It was raining, really raining, but no amount of rain could dampen their hopes. So the cab I took to get me home made a U-turn and I was on my way back to them. I was two hours late for the affair. But a picture of relief could be seen running on my friends’ faces when they saw me. It turned out that the early old drinking eagles there were not part of the arrangement and I found out that most men who participated in the event would come in late.

This is how the game is played: Girls sit down, boys approach their table, a two-minute talk ensues about anything under the sun. Or about the moon, I must say. Then the bell rings, the boys must stand up to change partners. So it goes through the night, until everyone has met everyone—and then it’s time to cast the votes. Those whose votes match will be partnered and informed later through e-mail and it’s up to them to decide whether or not they would take their votes a notch higher. Sounds so instant.

It was fun because I came to realize how really different people are from one another. The manner they shook hands or asked names varied with every person. Some were reserved, others were bashful, a few acted confident, and there were those exactly as clueless as I was. And you could sense those who were there not for the sale but for the “kill”—you could almost hear them saying; “Hey I’m so good, you need me,” or “I’m the best, what in the world do you mean with that smirk?” I was laughing the whole time.

To be fair to the event organizers and the participants, out there, with them, I didn’t feel so desperate (I might have appeared so), instead I found the whole actual encounter to be fun. It was like a celebration of being who you really are in front of total strangers and having the courage to say, “Yes, I am on my own right now.” I stole a glance at my pink warrior-friends and I saw them in tears. They were so happy to see me smile again and to hear me laugh like a mad woman. I was, I am a mad woman. Yes!

I actually hit a match and he later asked me out for a date. But I think this was not what my friends really wanted to happen. That night, they didn’t mean for me to make the sale, but for me to realize my worth, not to think of myself as a “marked-down item,” but to feel precious so that when I finally get back into the market, I would not be just a “buy one, take one” treat. I believe they achieved that. We took pictures, we hugged, and we called it a night. It was a trip down the fast lane I shall never forget. It was a liberating experience. Thank God for my relentless friends.

April Kristel Isiderio, 27, is a flight attendant for a local low-cost carrier and is once again engaged to be wed, it is hoped, before the year ends.