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Speed dating for teens - franklinkelsey5 - 10-07-2025
Hello, Guest!
Article about speed dating for teens:
Needless to say, I did not. But this stands out as one of the more publishable pieces of advice I received before I went naked speed dating. The latest in London’s saucy scenes, Date in a Dash have begun hosting nude events for ages 23 to 35, to shake up the dating scene, cut through the bulls*** and to reveal right off the bat who’s really attracted to who, and who’s sporting, say, an unfortunate butt tattoo.
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The format is simple: regular speed dating, with four-minute meetings, a mingle and a yes, no or friends column to tick. The only thing missing, in fact, is your apparel. Just 20 quid will buy you a look at 30 odd sets of genitalia – although not, apparently, a bottle of wine at the pricey Balham venue, The Exhibit pub (no pun intended). “You must be out of your mind,” my friends told me. “I wouldn’t do it in a million years.” Red rag to a bull, I’m afraid. Full disclosure: I am a 5”4, size 14 woman on the latter side of 25 with all the trimmings – cellulite, scars, bruises, chipped nail varnish and a rack that gave up the fight against gravity years ago. So this isn’t one of those #bodypositivity Instagram larks done by a part-time teenage model with an airbrush filter. In fact, trying to make a good impression on a total stranger while sweating from your inner thighs is about as #nofilter as it gets. But I screwed my courage to the sticky place and decided to brave it alone, without a friend along for moral support. I am strong, I am woman, etc etc. (Also, they all refused to come.) So there I was, alone outside a pub in Balham, having broken the habit of a lifetime and arrived early, puffing frantically on a fag and trying to psyche myself up to go inside. I’ve never been less excited to see a roomful of naked men before. In the end, the only thing that got me through the door was the need to prove a totally meaningless point – and the prospect of a large vodka inside. Upstairs I went, fighting mild pukiness, to meet Rob the organiser. This is an unexpected and surprisingly delightful USP of Date in a Dash events: the organisers really get involved, going out of their way to talk to everyone and put them at ease. Rob was no exception. Leading me into the changing room, he tells me that before he got into the speed dating business, he was a police officer “with long hours and no job satisfaction” – but had always been entrepreneurial. “I started the business in 2011, when I went with a friend to a rival event and thought it was a good laugh and way to meet people, but not very well put together. I saw an opportunity to do things better and make the events more quirky and fun. “Fast forward seven years, and here we are.” Here he is, indeed. Date in a Dash now hosts more events in London than its competitors, has over 30,000 members and is working with top brands in quality venues all over the city. And it is the first, in fact, to host an event of this kind. “There is a real trend for quirky events, it seems that people are more willing to do something completely bats*** crazy than a regular event, so there is a real focus towards nights like ‘drunk jenga dating’ and a new one we launched on Wednesday – ‘dirty Pictionary’”, Rob explains. “In terms of ‘Naked Dating’, it was just an idea I’d been thinking of for a while since I saw the show, ‘Naked Attraction’.” Like the show, the event was billed around the idea of a limited “reveal’: you all emerge in two rows, boys opposite girls (currently the event is only set up for heterosexual daters, but I hope to see them expand in the future), wearing nothing but your event-provided robe and your best smile. The robes come off, you check each other out for a sphincter-crushingly awkward ten minutes, then you get dressed and proceed to speed date as normal. At least, that’s what the tickets said. After an awkward mingle in the bar, which rather like a school disco involved palling up with the nearest member of the same sex and huddling in the corner, the girls were taken into a sweet and quirky cinema room to change. The atmosphere fizzed like prosecco: we giggled, hugged, compared choice of hairstyle (top and bottom), admired each other’s underwear. (a few girls chose to keep their bra and pants on, but others decided to try the full monty with me). In general, the atmosphere was full of mutual support and sleepover-esque solidarity. (A word to the wise, though, for whoever compiled the playlist: if you want to put women at their ease, lay off the James Blunt. The only thing that “Goodbye, My Lover” was psyching me up for was a funeral.) I heard later the boys all undressed in the bar in total silence, avoiding eye contact. Go figure. In we shuffled, in our matching Matalan robes, to a reassuringly dark bar filled with small tables. Boys on one side of the room, girls on the other, with barely repressed giggles and fear sweat in the air – the temperature was turned up to the max, presumably to make sure the women had something to look at when the men stood up. It was then that Rob informed us that, as predicted by my friends and family but strenuously denied by myself, the clothes would not be coming back on anytime soon. While we were free to hold onto our robes and our underwear, the dates would take place as we were. Ticket description notwithstanding. While we were surprised, nobody backed out. After all, in for a penny, in for a few extra Christmas pounds. At the halfway mark, I quizzed Rob on this big reveal. “It’s going better than I expected,” he grinned with barely concealed jubilation. “I just thought the lining up wasn’t going to work, I thought it was going to kill the atmosphere, with getting changed.
Speed dating for teens