Some
 years ago I heard about an absurd, but intriguing, dating ritual 
called "Speed Dating" organized with the intention of introducing single
 adults to each other in the most bizarrely perfect way. It was musical 
chairs in 5-minute intervals. I dared myself to make a reservation for a
 session taking place in about 2 weeks near me. It was a stretch for me 
to try something like this on, but I wanted to be brave. It was on my 
calendar!
I had second thoughts, doubts, outrageously 
stressful moments leading up to the event.  It was all so unnerving. I 
was petrified about meeting 15 or 
more people all in one event. I wasn't the outgoing, extroverted, social
 butterfly that could walk into a room full of strangers and feel 
comfortable introducing myself and striking up random conversations. 
That's who I wished I could be. What if no one wanted to meet me? What 
if I froze and couldn't speak? 
What if I wasn't interesting enough, pretty enough, smart enough? I was 
self-conscious, nervous... and curious. What if? 
I
 decided I would go by myself, opting not to bring the supportive 
friend to join me. I would be completely on my own in a singles scene 
for the first time. It felt like I was taking a stand for my independence in life, in finding love, and trusting myself.
Those weeks before the event when I was preoccupied with uneasiness,  I reminded myself there'd 
be booze and men so I wondered, how different could it be from the usual dating 
scene? Perhaps instead of talking to just one awkward guy, I might have 
an opportunity to talk to 15 of them! Just kidding... that's not really what I 
thought. I believed that there was someone out there for 
everyone, a soul mate, a forever partner, and I was hopeful - worried and anxious, but hopeful.
The closer the calendar inched toward the event, the more clear I 
became in creating a strategy for handling these feelings. I remembered 
reading somewhere that when you're nervous about a meeting with someone 
else, to shift your thinking to being aware of how nervous the other 
person might be about meeting 
you. In shifting your focus to making them
 feel more comfortable, you would be less able to focus on your own 
anxiety. It's a simple game of distraction. If you're thinking about one
 thing that is contrary to the other thing, then the other thing loses 
it's power. There just wouldn't be enough room to entertain both ideas 
simultaneously. It was about choosing one over the other. 
Based
 on this philosophy, I imagined taking it a step further and examining 
who I really wanted to be when I sat across the table from each new person.
 I discovered that I believed that everyone, each and every person, was 
worth 5 minutes of my time. I wanted to be able to relax a little, be comfortable in my own skin so that I
 could be gracious, engaged and curious about each new person I'd be 
meeting for the first time. I let go of the notion that I should expect 
to meet someone to fall in love with and instead I wanted to fall in 
love with meeting people that I might not otherwise have an 
opportunity to meet. The deal I made with myself was to say "yes" to people I found 
interesting. 
I
 arrived on time and checked in with the hostess who was smiling and 
encouraging. She explained the procedure and asked if I'd like to get 
myself a drink before getting started. The bar was two people deep and 
all but a few of the chairs were turned, like a gallery, facing the 
event about to commence. It was the optimal place to be for supportive 
friends and gawkers to watch the show unfold and lend encouragement to 
those approaching the bar with a subtle wave for the bartender signaling
 "another one, please" between shifts. I ordered a glass of wine and 
stood by waiting for my first table assignment. 
Our 
instructions were to introduce ourselves, find something to talk about 
and start to get to know each other, ever so briefly, establishing first
 impressions about the person across from us and then presto! It was 
time to stand up while the partner stayed seated, and move to the next 
table to the left. We were to sit with that person for 5 minutes and do 
it all over again, and then again, and again. I tried on my new idea and each 
new meeting came and went pretty smoothly. There were score cards to 
write notations but before I'd get a chance to make any notes, it was 
already time to switch it up and move over to the left again. Next!
Some felt like our time 
together was cut short, for others it seemed just right and for a couple I 
honestly thought 5 minutes was waaaay too long. That was a little 
surprising for me - 5 minutes was definitely an exercise in serving time
 in an awkward situation but it was less painful knowing that it was almost over. 
The
 gift in this experience wasn't in meeting Mr. Right, or even Mr. Right 
Now - it was that it changed how I meet people - forever. Being the 
person who is focusing on the comfort of others has calmed my nerves and
 helps me enjoy the wonder of it all, that our paths are crossing. My 
expectations aren't to immediately know how to assign anyone fitting 
into any particular role, I just enjoy letting things unfold, naturally.  I don't 
set an intention to meet someone for this or that, just to meet someone 
interesting, and that's all. And that's enough.