The Oracle of Dating (7 page)

T
IME
: 5:03
P.M
. One hour until showtime.

Amy’s prediction proves right: we have three—count ’em,
three
speed dating lineups! In fact, so many people signed up in the past few days that we’ll have twelve dates in each game.

As of now, all logistics are in place. Each game will take one hour, with a ten-minute intermission after the first six dates. There will be fifteen minutes in between games, hopefully enough time to get one group out and the next group seated. Tomorrow we’ll compile the results. I’ve promised to send everyone an e-mail with their matches by five.

Thanks to Ryan, the library has been transformed. Most of the lights are off, except for the ones illuminating the back bookshelves. The custodial staff wouldn’t allow candles, so Ryan brought three lamps from home and screwed in red light bulbs, creating a night-clubish ambience. He set up six dating tables, which he covered with white tablecloths and rose petals. The budget for decorating was twenty dollars, but Ryan insisted on making this his contribution to the evening.

I go over to the food table where Viv, Sharese and Amy are putting out snacks and drinks. Everything looks so good that my stomach reminds me it’s dinnertime.

Sharese says, “Go ahead, we have lots.”

I don’t argue and put some food on my plate. The girls laugh when, feeling guilty, I throw a few dollars into the box before scarfing down the food.

People start to arrive around quarter to six. I greet everybody and give them a game card on which they’ll fill in their dates’ names, circle yes or no, and write comments to remember them by later.

At six, we’re missing five people for the first round. In the meantime, I tell the participants to take their seats at their assigned table.

By six-ten, we’re still missing three people. We have an uneven number, eleven guys and ten girls. Amy volunteers to even it up.

Sharese, who’s never shy to speak in public, stands up. “Welcome to speed dating! You should all have your cards in front of you. First thing, write your name at the top. The girls will stay in their seats and the guys will move to the table on their right every five minutes—we’ll ring a bell to let you know. When five minutes are up, check off yes or no. Don’t do it in front of them, please. Do it as you’re moving to the next table or at the end of the game. We’ll have a ten-minute break halfway through
the game where you can get more refreshments. Happy dating!”

I stand behind the refreshment table with Ryan. He’s arranging the napkins artfully, and like me, he’s watching the daters. “Check out the hot vibe at table two.”

I nod. “Table seven looks uncomfortable. And that guy at table six is teasing them. Are they exes, do you think?”

“They’re brother and sister.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding. She’s a senior and he’s a junior. I guess since their last name is Smith, Amy didn’t put it together.”

“Crap. We could’ve easily put them in different games if we’d known. I hope they don’t ask for their money back.”

“They still have eleven
non
-blood-related dates. Isn’t that enough?”

When my stopwatch beeps, I ring the bell. “Next date, everybody!”

And I ring the bell every five minutes until intermission, then we continue until the game is over. Afterward, several of the daters linger to fill in their cards, while others keep chatting with their dates. I suppose it’s a good thing, but there’s a bottleneck near the doors with people leaving and new daters coming in.

I signed up several of the people in the next game myself, like Jared, Brooke and Evgeney. I greet everybody as they come in, giving them their cards and pointing to their assigned seats. Some girls from the last game are still hanging around the library doors, complaining loudly about how the guys in this game are so much cuter than in the first game and how unfair it is.

One of them, Candace Granada, comes up to me with her hands on her hips. “Why did we get the lame-ass guys, huh? I heard there were going to be soccer players. Our group looked more like the chess team to me.”

“We did the best we could placing people,” I say apologetically.

“I told my girls we were gonna get dates out of this—what do I tell them now?”

Amy comes up, a sweet smile on her face. “Tell them the Cancer Society is very grateful for their support. Now, you’d better move along…”

To my relief, Amy takes control of the situation, ushering the girls out. Five minutes later, Sharese gives her spiel and starts the game.

I go back to the refreshment table, where Ryan is counting the money and the girls are replacing the snacks and drinks. “Twenty-three bucks for food and bev in the first game. Not bad.”

“That’s because of Sharese’s Oreo Rice Krispie squares,” Viv says.

Sharese shakes her head. “It’s the pakoras.”

“Actually, it was mainly the drinks,” Amy says. Then, quietly, “Don’t look now, but Brooke is sitting with Evgeney, and they’re not even talking.”

I do look, seeing Brooke filing her nails right in front of him. Couldn’t she talk to the guy for five minutes? My heart squeezes with sympathy. Poor Evgeney.

The dates continue, one after another, with an intermission halfway. I’m sort of watching Jared out of the corner of my eye. I’m curious as to how he’s getting along with the girls. There seems to be a lot of smiling and laughing. Well, on top of his cuteness, I guess he has a certain charm.

On the eighth date, the girl in front of him is Brooke. He keeps glancing down at her chest. That dog, I hope he doesn’t make any matches—not even one!

But the weird thing is, besides the glimpses at her chest, he is talking to her and she is giggling and flipping her hair. You don’t have to be the Oracle of Dating to see that she’s enjoying herself.

Okay, so I realize that I am now in a bad mood and the obvious reason is not one I want to accept. Maybe
I’m annoyed that Brooke is flirting with Jared when she has no real intentions of dating him. Yes, that’s it. I feel sorry that his little ego boost will be short-lived.

Damn it, why did Amy have to put him in the same round as Brooke?

When their time is up, I ring the bell with new enthusiasm.

The game ends, and I can see that the third-round daters are eagerly waiting at the library doors. As we let the second group out and the third in, Jared materializes at my elbow.

“Nice job with this.”

God, his eyes are so blue. “Thanks,” I say, handing out game cards as people stream past me in both directions.

He leaves, and I’m suddenly desperate to see who he checked off and who he didn’t, but of course I have a job to do.

We get everyone seated and start the game with the first ring of the bell. I pick up the cards from the last game and count them to make sure they’re all there. When I find Jared’s card, I somehow feel guilty for looking at it, but
then I remind myself that it’s my job to look at all of the cards and compile the results.

His card looks like this:

He said NO to Brooke. Yay!!!

He said NO to every girl. Wow. And then, this:

What does that mean? Who is she?

O
F COURSE IT ISN’T ME
,
I tell myself when I’m back in my bedroom a couple of hours later. Whoever he’s talking about would obviously know it.

Or maybe I’m taking his words too literally. Does “she knows who she is” mean that she is someone who is confident and knows what she’s about? Maybe he doesn’t mean one girl in particular. He could be making a general statement.

What do I do now? Call him and ask what this is all about?

Of course I’m not going to do that. Then he would totally think I like him. And I don’t even know if I like him, or if I’m just attracted to him. Crazy, hotly attracted to him. I mean, I obviously like him a bit, but I’d have to know him better before I could gauge if we could have a real, meaningful relationship.

All I know is, a little bit of attraction—okay,
a lot
of
attraction—isn’t cause to break my no-dating-until-college rule. Letting raging teenage hormones rule my brain will surely lead to heartbreak. I’ve seen it happen to countless friends and clients.

It’s not fair. Biologically, I have no choice but to be attracted to him. Thinking back to all of the girls sitting across from him at speed dating, I realize they probably felt the same way. Jared is dark, brooding, strong and has a troubled past—he just screams romance-novel hero. How can anyone not be drawn to that?

And masculine. God, he just radiates masculine strength. Those arms. Those big hands. Not to mention the facial hair. And those smoldering dark blue eyes…

It’s official: I’m a twisted fiend.

And it’s all Jared’s fault.

T
HE SMELL OF THE
S
WEDE’S
pancakes, hours old by now, conspire with my grumbling tummy to get me out of bed around ten. I throw on a robe and slippers and trudge downstairs.

“Good morning, Kayla.” The Swede has a cup of coffee and a magazine in front of him. “Pancakes are on the stove. You might want to reheat them in the microwave.”

“Thanks.” I put two of the thick circular pancakes on a plate, touch them and decide they’re warm enough for me. “Can I have a cup of your coffee?”

He raises a brow. “Yes, but since when do you drink coffee?”

“I didn’t sleep that well.” I pour myself a cup, stir in some cream, then sit down and pour syrup onto my pancakes.

“What kept you awake?”

“I’ve been thinking about all the speed dating stuff.” Which isn’t completely untrue. I’m just not being specific about what part of the speed dating I was thinking about. The last thing I’m going to tell the Swede is that I’m thinking about a guy.

“How did it go?”

“Good. My friends are coming over this afternoon to put together the results.”

“Did you make a match last night?”

“Erland.”

“What did I say?”

“I wasn’t trying to find a date. I didn’t even participate. I had to run the thing.”

“Oh, that is unfortunate.”

“Why? You think I need a boyfriend?”

“Not necessarily a boyfriend, but perhaps a few dates.”

“People my age don’t go on a
few dates.
You pretty much have a boyfriend or you don’t.”

“That is a shame. I used to date many different girls when I was your age. We would go to the cinema or to a dance. Sometimes we would go driving. I do enjoy a drive on a nice day. Don’t you?”

I can’t believe this. The Swede, whom I’ve always thought of as a total square, probably had more fun as a teenager than I’m having.

“L
OOK AT THIS
!” Amy waves the dating card in her hand. The five of us are crammed into my bedroom. “Brooke said yes to Jared Stewart!”

I snatch the card from her hand. It’s true. In the comments section, she even drew a heart.

“Let’s see if he checked her off,” Amy says.

Sharese finds his card. “He didn’t. He didn’t check anyone off. And at the end, he put a number thirteen and wrote,
she knows who she is
. Weird.” She passes the card around.

“Maybe he means Kayla,” Viv says. “He must’ve meant for one of us to see it. And don’t you guys sit together in art class?”

“Yeah, but…I think he’s just making a statement.” But I have to wonder if Viv is right; why would he write that if he didn’t intend for one of us to see it?

“I told you that kid was strange,” Amy says. “He’s the only guy who didn’t check Brooke off. Maybe he’s gay.”

Viv scoffs. “You’re saying any guy who doesn’t like Brooke is gay? That’s stupid.”

“He liked her tits,” Sharese says in Jared’s defense.

Amy looks at his card. “‘Tits are real, the rest is fake.’ Is he implying that she got a nose job? I’ve always wondered about that.”

“I think he’s referring to her personality,” I say. “Obviously he cares about more than her chest. He could be mature enough to know that boob size isn’t everything.”

“Well,
I
have a theory on why she checked him off. I bet dating some stoner would be her way of getting back at Declan.”

“You think he’s a stoner?” I’m trying to sound casual.

“Of course he is,” Amy says. “He dresses like one. Anyway, no normal guy would pass up the chance for a boob-grope.”

“Let’s hurry up, guys.” Sharese claps her hands. “I want to know who checked me off!”

“We’re not telling you your results in person,” I say. “You’ll get them through e-mail.”

“You’re just saying that because nobody checked me off,” Sharese says with mock sadness. “Well, I didn’t check any of the guys off, anyway, because I only have eyes for Mike P.”

“Fine, then. Darren Prince and John Culver checked you off.”

“Oh, cool! What about Viv?”

Viv shakes her head. “I don’t want to know now. Maybe later.”

Sharese frowns. “C’mon, Viv. I bet Raj picked you!”

“Later, okay?”

“Her choice, guys.” I look at Amy. “You didn’t check anyone off, either.”

“How could I? I’m already with Chad.”

“That didn’t stop you from making out with that guy on my birthday.”

“At least his name wasn’t Melvin! I still want to know how many guys checked me off.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Somebody wants her ego stroked.” He finds her results. “Eight of the guys checked you off, Amy. Are you happy now?”

“Yes. I’m happy now. I can’t wait to tell Chad. He’ll be so jealous.”

Ignoring that, Viv asks, “Has anyone figured out how much money we made?”

“Yep.” I have the number in front of me. “How about seven hundred and fifty-three dollars?”

We cheer and pound palms.

“My mom’s ordering us pizza later,” I tell them. “First we have to e-mail everybody with their results. That’ll take a while. We’ll save time if we use two computers. Sharese and Ryan can use the one in my mom’s office.”

Sharese yanks Ryan to his feet. I give them the information they need and they head down the hall.

Viv, Amy and I hit the computer. I realize as I’m turning my monitor on that oracleofdating.com is on the screen. Just as it’s starting to light up, I click a button to reboot the computer. I’ll have to be more careful the next time I have friends in my room.

We get to work, typing in e-mail addresses and sending short prewritten messages.

Congratulations, you have two matches! Their e-mail addresses are…

Or,

Sorry, you had no matches in this game. We’d like to thank you for supporting the Cancer Society.

“I told you Evgeney wouldn’t get any matches,” Amy says.

“I know. But he deserved a chance like everyone else.” I feel bad for him, though.

Amy’s cell rings, and she decides to take it outside. I ask Viv if we can talk about her results. She nods.

“You didn’t pick anyone, Viv. I had two Indian guys there and both checked you off. You didn’t want to give either of them a chance?”

“Not really.”

“What about Max McIver?”

“Did he check me off?”

“You’re the only one he checked off.”

Her face is unreadable. “Oh.”

“Do you want to change your mind and check him off now?”

“No. We’d better get this done, Kayla. I’m starting to get hungry for the pizza.”

We go back to work. But the Oracle is convinced there’s more weighing on Viv’s mind than pizza.

What Gives? An Examination of the New Trend in Modern Romance Called Speed Dating

By Michaela Cruickshank

My project was to conduct a speed dating experiment as a fundraiser for the Cancer Society.

The speed dating phenomenon is based on the premise that people can tell within a short period of time whether they have any romantic interest in someone. In my experiment, a male and female student would sit across from each other for five minutes with the aim of assessing whether they would like to date that person. After the five-minute bell, the boys rotated to sit in front of another girl, while the girls stayed seated. Each player was given a speed dating card to check yes or no to whether they’d like to see that person again.

Ask people going into a round of speed dating what they’re looking for in a mate, and usually they will say they are looking for things like a sense of humor, kindness, good looks, ambition. But if you examine their cards after they have speed dated, you find that what people say they want, and what they actually go for, can be very different. But why?

The answer is the X factor. It is commonly known as chemistry or vibe. Even if two speed daters have everything in common on paper, this X factor needs to be present for them to want to date. It is, in large part, a physical attraction involving pheromones that mesh well together.

Whatever you call it, it’s something that can’t be predicted. But
ultimately it’s the most important factor when it comes to wanting to see someone again.

T
HAT NIGHT
I
CHECK
the speed dating e-mail account to see if any of the e-mails have bounced back. I’m surprised when I see how many people have replied to the e-mail.

I open the first one.

Thanks, it was fun, but are you sure Stephanie or Angie didn’t check me off?

I open another one. Only two matches? Could you recount it?

Another one. Please take a look again—I’m sure Shamar checked me off.

And the list goes on. To my surprise, a lot of people expected they’d be checked off by people who didn’t check them off. I double-check each of the cards just in case, but I don’t find any mistakes.

Hmm. This must mean that people often don’t get the
real
vibe the other person is giving off. Maybe they see what they want to see. Or maybe the other speed daters were being especially nice because they knew they weren’t going to check them off.

I open an e-mail from Evgeney Vraslov:

Thank you for letting me play. Nobody checked me. Did I do something wrong? Could I try again next year?

My heart breaks for him. Poor Evgeney. I reply:

Hi Evgeney,

A lot of people didn’t make matches, so don’t worry about it—you didn’t do anything wrong. If we do it again next year, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, there’s this Web site called the Oracle of Dating you might want to check out. You don’t have to pay to read the blog. See you at school!

Kayla

I’m not sure I did the right thing by mentioning the Oracle, but there might be information on the Web site that could help him, especially since I recently wrote a blog for guys called
What Girls Are Looking For.
Note to self: add another blog or two that could help Evgeney. One of them would definitely have to be on fashion because if Evgeney is ever going to find a girl, he’ll need a full makeover.

As I’m replying to the other e-mails, an instant message pops up for the Oracle.

LostGirl: I’m really depressed.

Oracle: What’s wrong?

LostGirl: There’s this guy I really like and I think he likes me, too.

Oracle: And?

LostGirl: He’s not Indian. My parents will freak out if I date a guy who isn’t Indian.

Viv would be able to relate to this girl! Her parents are the same way.

Oracle: Are you sure they would freak out? Do you think after a while they might come to accept him?

LostGirl: My parents are very traditional. A while ago I asked them what they’d do if I wanted to date a guy who isn’t Indian, and they said there was no way they’d let me. I love my parents and I know they want what’s best for me. But I think they might be wrong about this. I just don’t know!

Oracle: Do you like this guy enough to upset your parents?

LostGirl: I don’t want to upset them but I like this guy so much. I kept telling myself that he didn’t like me back, but then we did this speed dating thing at school, and I was the only one he checked off. So now I’m thinking he must like me.

Oh my God! I’m talking to Viv!

Oracle: Did you check him off?

LostGirl: No. How could I?

Oracle: Maybe you could find someone to talk to your parents for you—a teacher or a relative.