What happened when a Christian journalist tried speed dating

Last night was not my first time speed dating. Just after university, I attended an event with a gaggle of girlfriends. I donned a blue bandeau dress and spent three minutes with each of the dozen men in the rotation. The only one I remember was a fella who followed the band A-ha around the country, insisted that they were so much bigger than ‘Take on me’ and pulled a series of posters out of his rucksack. 

If I’m honest, my friends and I only attended because the price of a speed dating ticket was lower than the entry fee for the club in which it was hosted. It was less about the romance and more about skipping the queue for Mahiki later that night. I didn’t match with anyone.

Since then, I’ve become a Christian and embraced the whole new world of faith-based dating. Honestly, it was so frustrating that I wrote a book about it (Notes on Love: Being single and dating in a marriage-obsessed church, SPCK). As part of my ministry representing those who feel Christian dating culture needs an overhaul, I’ve both attended and hosted a number of dating events. From mixers and ‘date my mate’ drinks to blind dates and singles supper clubs, I’ve witnessed the full complement.

I can understand why people may question whether these worldly dating initiatives are appropriate for Christians. The reality is that culture outside of church has – rightly or wrongly – affected the culture inside church. We no longer stay in our family homes if we remain unmarried. We no longer get married in our late teens to someone in our town, home church or university. As a result, we have many Christians who hope for a relationship, struggle to meet someone and live in isolation, feeling alone. 

Speed dating is exhausting, repetitive and an introvert’s worst nightmare

I don’t believe the only way to solve this is to get everyone married, but I do think initiatives that create healthy opportunities to build relationships should be championed. The current dating climate, where people spend two seconds looking at an online profile before making a snap judgement about whether to match, has created a transient, gamified approach to dating. This means that the four-minute speed date has ironically become a higher investment, more humanising option. 

Dating dramas

I first became aware of these Christian speed dating events back in March, but the women’s tickets sell out so quickly that it took me months and a Google alert just to be able to attend. Conversely the men’s tickets remained available until the morning of the event. Classic.

As the day rumbled around, I started to wonder if a night in with a Marvel movie and my dog wouldn’t be a more sensible option. The likelihood of actually meeting someone with whom I was compatible and attracted to felt very slim. But I was committed to the tune of £25, and in this economy, we can’t just throw around money every time we get the jitters. I was going. Plus, there’s always a small, almost indistinguishable part of me that wonders: What if…?

My parents were staying with me for the night, so I popped my head into the living room to say goodbye. Mum muted ITV3 just long enough to tell me she’d be reading about Emma Raducanu’s stalker so I shouldn’t look too nice this evening, “just in case”. I love her for thinking I command the same allure as the stunning professional tennis player but reassured her that I would be fine. Still, as I slumped into the backseat of my Uber, I felt sad, reflecting on the very real dangers that face dating women.

Single women in the Church outnumber single men two-to-one

Thankfully the setting was very public – a city centre cocktail bar – and the organisers very present, making it one of the safer ways to date new people. On arrival I got chatting to two women; one whose twin sister had been on the show I present for Christian dating app SALT and the other who had attended a singles supper club I organised a few years ago. In the interval, I would get chatting to another woman who had attended a dating panel I spoke on at her church. Feeling slightly exposed, I took my seat at a corner two-top with a fake plant and a votive candle and awaited the first of the 14 men I would date for four-minutes each that evening. 

Each of the suitors was wildly different. Some were reserved and even formal, shaking my hand and sticking to tried and tested interview questions. Others bowled over like we were on the same sports team. Some dished out questions like a firing squad dishes out bullets. Another launched into a monologue on the topic of “great things about me”. A few struggled to maintain eye contact, while I got the impression that one had been specifically instructed to make eye contact, which he did continuously but exclusively with my left eye.

Their jobs varied from tech to finance and social care to teaching. One guy had just moved to the UK as he was expanding his business out of Dubai, while another was a sprinter who gave up his Saturdays to teach children athletics. I was quietly impressed by a man who said straight away that he found me attractive. Clarity is a rarity in dating these days. I take my wins where I can. I told a Greek guy that I was going to Crete on holiday and he proceeded to tell me a cautionary tale about how Cretans value honour above all else and are usually armed so I was not to offend them. I’m really looking forward to that relaxing break now.

The criteria for the event was simple; Christians between the ages of 30 and 45. But despite this, there were a few who slipped through the net. I asked one man, who looked on the younger side, his age – only to find that he was 29. I’m 36, so this is not a criminal age difference but for me, not preferable. Nevertheless, I enjoyed his company until the event ended, and he suggested that a group of us went out to a club. That’s when the seven-year age gap really shone through. At 10pm on a Tuesday, I was only thinking about the herbal tea and episode of The Office I intended to enjoy from bed, rather than sticky dancefloors and overpriced drinks. 

Another gentleman only realised once the event started that it was for Christians. His English wasn’t quite at conversational level, so perhaps something got lost in translation. He saw I was drinking an alcohol-free beer, pointed at the label and said: “Good Christian girl!” I considered saying: “Yes, and eleven years sober drug addict.” But decided it would be too cumbersome to explain. He listed some of the times he had been to church in his life in an attempt to find common ground but eventually was asked to leave by the organisers as he was not particularly respectful of the women’s personal space.

There are only so many times you can smile and ask: “And what do you get up to on the weekends?”

There was one fewer man than the number of women, so as the men shifted from table to table, an empty seat moved around the group too. I caught myself counting the number of dates I had left before I would be sitting opposite the empty chair. The break was welcome. Speed dating is exhausting, repetitive and an introvert’s worst nightmare.

My final date was with someone who had already been to my home for one of the aforementioned Christian single supper clubs. He didn’t recognise me. He put out his hand and gave me his name to which I said: “I know.” He ignored me and asked my name to which I replied: “You know my name, we know each other.” He politely fumbled around feigning recognition until I put him out of his misery and reminded him of the January dinner. It was one way to break the ice.

Fully alive

By the end of the night, I was knackered. There are only so many times you can smile and ask: “And what do you get up to on the weekends?” I debriefed with a few of the other women who all reported the same story – an interesting and novel evening but no immediate connections that they intend to explore.

For speed-daters who meet someone they would like to pursue for dating or friendship, there is an online portal open for a four-hour window the following day. Users are encouraged to log in and register their picks. If the other person also logged their interest, the system shares your contact details so you can take it from there.

For me, there was no romance on the evening. There were several people who I would not be sorry to sit next to at a dinner party and with whom I think I could have a fun and encouraging friendship. But I’ve already got friends who I struggle to make time to care for well. There’s only one vacancy in my life.

Despite my lack of romantic interests, I am still pleased I attended. It’s been a long time since I used dating apps as I can’t stand the drudgery of the admin. When I was using them, I was disengaged and half-hearted. I was exactly who I now tell people not to be. If I can’t be enthusiastic and honour the other person’s time and vulnerability in setting up a profile, I don’t think I should do it at all. Plus – in such a small community it’s a minefield littered with the ghosts of boyfriends past. 

Conversely, I was able to give last night’s speed dates my full attention. I’m pleased to have seen how they carried themselves, how they spoke and to have asked them questions. Dating is sterile these days. But last night was alive and fully human. Real conversations and potential connections were explored. I enjoyed talking to people. I got a glimpse into their character, hearts and faith. I respected and admired them for showing up and for hoping, just as I do.

Diverse challenges

The beauty of Church is that it attracts anyone and everyone. Every type of person with their quirks and differences is welcome. It is a joy when someone who has been exposed to rejection in the world finds a home there. As a result, we end up with a beautiful melting pot of people with different experiences, social capabilities, mental health backgrounds and other divergences from “the norm” – whatever that is. 

Single people in the Church can be from wildly different ends of the spectrum when it comes to their ability to communicate in an emotionally and socially healthy way. And people with such huge social differences are not a good match for dating. This is the most commonly cited issue with Christian dating initiatives. The Church must be an open space. But by introducing dating in an environment with such a wide variety, you can be setting people up for failure. 

Those who are high-functioning can feel disheartened that they won’t meet someone who can communicate on their level. And those who need more support with their communication can feel perpetually rejected. Everyone is left demoralised.

All are equally worthy of meaningful love and connection, but most people would benefit from a more tailored approach to introductions. This would ensure that they are in a room of genuine prospects. The best events are the ones that are thoughtfully done; where people have been issued a personal invite because they are compatible with the wider group. The hand-selected strategy is not without its own problems, however. People can feel offended when they aren’t invited and it is a high time commitment for those who are coordinating. It also relies on the organisers having a wide enough circle to fruitfully fill an event.

Another common problem with such events is that single women in the Church outnumber single men two-to-one. This needs careful management to ensure a room isn’t packed with far more women than men. Ending up with a panicked ‘musical chairs’ effect, with a cluster of women surrounding each man, all hoping to claim him when the music stops, is not a good look.

Nonetheless, I still think in-person events are a better option when compared with mindless dating app swiping. I believe companies like Bored of Dating Apps and other real-life dating initiatives are going to swell in the coming years. Online dating used to be stigmatised and considered only for the weird and the desperate. But these days it is for everyone, with many couples meeting online. The same is happening with coordinated events as our individualistic society makes meeting naturally more and more difficult. 

Should single Christians go? Yes. Especially the single men. You may find the Jesus-centred marriage you’ve been praying for, or just be invited to go spontaneous clubbing for the first time in years. Either way there’s fun to be had. It’s like the gym, you’ll have to drag yourself there, but you’ll be pleased you did. 

Want to try online instead? Read our guide to dating apps