There is small pub on a corner of
Blake Street is named “
The Celtic Tavern.”
Walking in through the clouds of cigarette smoke there is a man of short stature manning the beer faucet.
“Can I help you?”
He directs me to the adjoining bar room which is separated by a no-smoking sign.
On the table lays a small folded paper that says “Cupid Speed Dating Card.”
Shaking the hands of the coordinator, I sit down at a dark maple table with her. From my field of vision, I can see two tables where speed dating is going on clearly.
The men are the ones that move from female to the other female.
A man with a plaid red shirt, tan khakis, and slightly dirty work boots stands up quickly without a goodbye to the female from the chair when the bell is rung.
Maybe he didn’t care for the speed date he was leaving.
He had a small hunch and stumbled a bit while walking to his next table.
He didn’t look like he had confidence in himself which because of his stature, or he maybe just had too much to drink.
With a smile and hand extended, he walks to a women out of my field of vision and begins to say his name.
The coordinator is a thirty six year old woman who looks like she is thirty four.
Here is the kicker, her real name is Rebecca but she wants to be called Becca.
“I’m on the fucking fast track while my boyfriend is on the fucking slow one; I’m at that age where if I want a family I need to do it now.”
She got comfortable with me fast, to the point that it made me slightly uncomfortable, but she had a personality that made this observation bearable.
“We even have a
lesbian group monthly.
This is a great place to meet people if you don’t have time or you just want to meet people.
You see each person for six minutes and on your card you write if you want to see them again or not.
The next day usually I sort through all these cards and if there is a mutual agreement to see each other then you’ll get their profile online.”
Seven women and five men ages thirty to forty five litter the space allotted. There are tables arranged in a cluttered fashion inside a small room like the one’s you see for private parties in country buffet. Strings of a banjo are being played softly through the speakers placed at the corners of the room, just enough to accompany any awkward silence. There are no cigarettes here, just empty drinks and beer bottles.
Before she started talking about her tribulations and woes with her relationship, she was explaining the ins-and-outs of her service. Every month she holds a few different events with all different age groups ranging from mid-twenties to late forties. Anything after that age you get menopause and erectile dysfunction. Most people are here, in her opinion, to find long term mates through an environment which lets them see many choices quickly. In the animal kingdom, this is common behavior for many species, the male and females will congregate where they can select who they wish to mate with. Becca thinks this is a more direct approach that allows people who have a hard time interacting with people can feel more comfortable because everyone is there for the same purpose.
The plaid red-shirt man was moving his fingers in a circular motion above a red card. The card rotated like how pin wheels move when blown by air. His face stared at the card. She probably had the impression that the card was much more entertaining for him. Was he just nervous and showing this tick or could it be he’s just showing active disinterest? Saying the word’s uh-huh and nodding his head to respond yes seems like his only means of communication.
When I first saw the business guy I didn’t think much of him. He had chubby cheeks, a balding head, and at most five-seven. He walked with normal confidence, head up and back straight. He was heading to the girl closest to me, though she was behind a wall so I couldn’t see her.
Business guy didn’t like this woman. At first he was doing the talking, but thirty seconds in he took the defensive position of crossing his arms. Fifteen seconds later he got up, walk toward me and Becca, and said, “Well that was short, where is the bathroom?” Becca went to talk to the woman. I caught a glimpse and saw a very surprising appearance. She was a tall and slender spiky highlighted hair woman that looked to be forty five. Garmented in army khakis and an artistic print shirt, her stature screamed a dominant personality. Words were exchanged between her and the person unloading relationship problems on me.
“I’ve never met that kind of person before.” Business person was referring to the spiky haired woman while crossing his legs in the chair in front of me. He began to tell Becca that he expected many more people here and was slightly disappointed. Somehow he threw in that he owned a house and New York and a house in Los Angelis. He also owned several businesses in those two states as well as Colorado. No wonder that woman blew him off, he uses his money angle in every instance he can.
Out of all the men there, he was the only one that didn’t seem introverted and nervous. He could only talk about his money however when I was interviewing him. His success, his name dropping, and his confidence overwhelmed me. The woman he was hoping to find here was a “half-full, half-empty” kind of woman. “A woman who would fly to New York with me on a whim to go to a theater, or talk a walk with me through the neighborhood.” This was too much for me, I was becoming too envious. He touched me when he left. Literally.
These shovels were not made to be shoveling dirt. They were made to aesthetically please the rich eyes aristocrats in the seventeenth century ,also to intimidate the other neighbors who did not have the same caliber of faux shovels. These particular shovels were made by an artisan named Jefalor. There was no magic involved in making these shovels, just time and dedication above a hot forge and a sweaty brow.
