Showing posts with label speed-dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label speed-dating. Show all posts

Friday, December 14, 2007

How Not To Woo Men, Apparently

Having spent the day at home yesterday trying to finish assignments and getting myself into a temper, I turned the laptop off and settled in to watch some truly shiteous telly before bed. Cue UTV's How to Get More Sex. Fine prescriptive viewing for an inexplicably single lady!

Alas, no.

I mentioned recently my theory that people do not like funny women (just as they do not like very clever ones) and last night's programme appears to support my complaint. I know the programme was dire, I know the "experiments" were clumsy and are far from scientifically valid, etc. Nonetheless, the results sounded depressingly familiar. The experiment was thus: Two actors were sent speed-dating, two weeks in a row. On week one they were advised to be average, attentive but not funny. The man scored just one tick out out of 20 potential dates, whereas the woman scored 10. Second time around they were told to be funny, as witty and humorous as possible. His chances increased five fold, hers halved.

The conclusion drawn was that being funny is seen as a socially dominant trait and whereas women find that very attractive in a man (I agree), men tend to find it threatening in a woman and thus unattractive (told you so). The actor's assessment of it was interesting - once she stayed quiet and let people talk about themselves they were much more receptive to her. The psychologist surmised that the sense of humour most valued in a woman is an ability to laugh at her partner's jokes, rather than a propensity for cracking them herself. The vox pops were unanimous, both men and women professed to prefer funny people. Put to the test though it doesn't seem to ring true. How depressing.

So it's back to batting eyelashes and smiling shyly for me.

Post Scriptum:
The programme's experiments also indicated that chat up lines don't work at all. Take note please, gentlemen.

Monday, May 21, 2007

Monday, Monday

Unlike most of my work "colleagues" (I love the common aim that implies... like the fuckers don't regularly shit on our best ideas) I don't hate Mondays. They're a novelty after the weekend, especially if you've just had as dull a weekend as I have. I tend to get a bit more done on Mondays too, which is nice. I've spent the better part of today writing our little office's annual report, to be presented to the Governing Body in what will be a brave attempt to justify our existence. It's nice, seeing your year's achievements laid out in print. It's worrying that it only stretches to 10 pages (and that's the bilingual version).

Fuck.

I'd like to beef it up with fancy descriptions of the events we've hosted (yes, that's the "work" I do) but most of them descend into pleidhcĂ­ocht at an early stage. And while some have been wild successes, others have been horrifying flops. I'm still the only person I know who's been stood up on a speed-dating night. Serves me right, I suppose. Who the hell would want to go speed-dating? 20 forced conversations with 20 people you wouldn't normally choose to be in the same room with, never mind actually speak to. Ick. I did it once and have never done so much work for so little reward. It should have been a lesson learned. What was I thinking hosting the kind of lame set-up night I didn't enjoy for students, who are more than capable of riding rings around themselves?

So I won't mention that in the report.

The success stories are worse though. I think I'll play it safe, and emphasise all of the publications we've translated into Irish, in between parties. Nobody's likely to read 'em anyway, right?

Roll on Tuesday!