| Speed Dating |
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| Written by Casey Milone | ||
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time between a cave of monitors and an extremely expensive Gastown office, all brick and hard wood and a server from the host establishment that slipped into the mix as they went off shift wearing a colourfull shirt from the lost and found over the industry-standard black and dark denim. And a raving parade of others, until the camera pulled back and each person blurred and became a tone in a larger tapestry depicting the bleak landscape of the Vancouver dating scene.
On the way home I stopped at London Drugs and found myself counting down from two minutes as the cashier changed the receipt paper. After my mental timer was up I was quite ready for my next human encounter. She exceeded her two minutes and it bothered me so much that my discomfort became all consuming. By the time I exited the train my steps had become heavy at the prospect of living the rest of my life with no way to regulate the length of my personal interactions. I was sure that using my mental timer would burn up my moment-to-moment coping ability. I had to outsource the job. I bought an egg timer. It is a small digital timer that is easy to use without taking it out of my pocket. It has been my companion for weeks now on this Tolkenesque quest that is my dating life. I constantly run my fingers over it like a ring of power as it tracks my waning attention, again and again.
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