As a recently single Toronto millennial, I dreaded finding love online. So I went speed dating

After months of dispiriting lockdowns and a recent breakup, I decided to date eight men in one night. And I did it all intwo hours.

No, I’m not the star of “The Bachelorette” (I wish).

This was actually a journey back in time, before swiping left and right became the norm. This was my adventure in speed dating in Toronto, a city where many pre-pandemic meeting spots, like restaurants and bars in the core, have shut down, in some cases supplanted by cannabis stores, including the Jersey Giant pub.

If you’ve never heard of speed dating, it’s a type of matchmaking that offers you the chance to speak to multiple single people, for a brief period, by rotation. You’re given just a few minutes to get to know someone before they are off talking to another potential love interest.

It’s fast, it’s efficient, and it’s no longer an ancient practice from some bygone era, aka the 1990s, when it was first popularized.

In fact, speed-dating events for 20- and 30-somethings in Toronto have been selling out in the first few months of 2023, suggesting that after an era filled with Zoom parties and virtual dates, millennials and Gen Z-ers are doing the unthinkable — meeting people in person.

And at 29 I’m one of them. After I became single earlier this year, the idea of returning to dating apps was daunting. I had the same concerns as many others. The repetitiveness, lack of organic communication and cold, impersonal interactions on platforms like Tinder are nothing new. Using them can lead to fatigue and emotional burnout, according to recent research by data analytics company Singles Reports.

Which is how I found myself at Upper Deck, the rooftop bar at Fran’s Restaurant on College Street, in March, ready to potentially bare my soul to multiple strangers.This particular evening was hosted by Flare Events, a company that launched right before the onset of the pandemic.

The pandemic forced Flare, founded by Toronto-based Matt Paoli, to offer virtual speed dating through 2020 and 2021. About a year ago, Flare began hosting in-person events again(alsoin Vancouver and Ottawa). Though Flare doesn’t yet offer events for the LGTBQ+ community, Paoli said he is hoping to launch them this year. The traditional model of speed dating, with men and women rotating, he said, requires logistical innovation.

I know I was nervous about attending due to my own preconceived notions about speed dating, derived, as a teen, from inhaling every romantic comedy from the 2000s, including “Hitch” and “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.” Those movies give the (false) impression that speed dating is for the desperate and the awkward. I didn’t want to be associated with these stereotypes, even though I knew they weren’t true.

Paoli knew about those misconceptions too, which is why Flare is trying to change up the model by introducing pre-event group activities to cut some of the tension.

“I can’t guarantee you’re going to find love at the very first event,” Paoli reassured me.“But I can guarantee you’re going to have a good time.”

There are other speed-dating companies in Toronto, including MyCheekyDate, which offers a laid-back approach without name tags; 25Dates.com, which boasts that it is the architect of “countless marriages”; and TantraSpeedDate, which involves yoga, dance, and “eye-gazing,” according to its site. (Both MyCheekyDate and Single and Eligible have events for gay men and women.)

But Flare’s focus on specific age groups, including those in their 20s, is what intrigued me.

Bring on the dates

Arriving at Upper Deck, we were told tograb a drink before the icebreaker began. Then, we all stood in a circle, and the Flare team passed out cards containing questions. The purpose: to get the 15 of us talking a bit about ourselves, before the actual dating started.

Some of the questions were more interesting than others. Mine was whether I prefer summer or winter (summer, obviously),while my friend (whom I brought for emotional support) spoke about her favourite TV shows.

Then, the women were assigned fixed seats, while the men would rotate through.When we were each given a scorecard, Paoli made sure to tell us to wait until our date was finished before checking yes or no, thereby avoiding any potential emotional devastation.

The eight-minute conversations went by in a blur. Going in, I was concerned the men might be a bit young, because the event was billed for ages 20 to 29 — but most turned out to be in their late 20s.

The first few spoke about why they decided to try speed dating: being on apps was tiring; they had also been through breakups; or, post-lockdowns, they had become interested in finding a long-term partner.

All of them were nice, and most were generally polite, though I wasn’t particularly attracted to any of them.

Seeing if you click

One reason dating apps can be exhausting is that they are designed to be addictive, more like a game than a tool for finding meaningful relationships, according to Jessica Maxwell, an assistant professor of social psychology at McMaster University, who focuses on sexuality and relationships.

“People have so much choice, so they’re really not investing in those conversations,” shesaid.

With speed dating, she added, it’s easy to see if you might get along with someone very quickly. “Studies have (shown) you can tell from the first 30 seconds of the interaction.”

And wow, she was right.

Two of my dates told me how “young” I look “for my age” and that I must “take good care” of myself. I’m not sure how they expected a 29-year-old woman to look, but these comments were ridiculous and disturbing. Goodbye!

After one guy told me I had “nice bone structure” but encouraged me to wear earrings to complement my face, I never made such an effort to keep from laughing at someone. And hilariously, on his date with my friend, he made a point of mentioning how much he liked her earrings.

These are perfect examples of why speed dating is useful, Maxwell told me.

“You could have been messaging those people for weeks (on apps),” she said. “(Speed dating) is also a very safe way of rejecting people.”

Ultimately, I had a fun time and I enjoyed meeting some of the guys. Although I wasn’t interested in getting to know them further, it felt empowering to put myself out there to talk to people, in real life.

That’s another benefit to speed dating, building “dating courage,” said Treena Orchard, an associate professor and anthropologist at the School of Health Studies at Western University.

“That’s what we need to do,” she said, “and these apps ... leave us on our own in less-than-satisfying, sometimes dangerous experiences with people.” (A 2020 Pew Research study found that younger women were more likely to be harassed through online-dating platforms.)

“With the rise in speed dating in particular … I think the design of (apps) has run its course for a lot of people,” Orchard said. “They want more.”

Though I’m not sure if I’d speed date again, mostly because the formality doesn’t mesh so well with my personality (I prefer speaking to men at bars where Rihanna or T-Pain are playing, loudly, in the background), it’s undoubtedly a fun way to meet other single people quickly. And with all of us still thawing from lockdowns, spending time with people we’ve never met before should be prescribed.

Most important, I did enjoy feeling like the Bachelorette, even for one night, though I doubt I’ll be buying a new pair of earrings anytime soon.

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