For months a friend of mine has wanted me to attend a speed dating event, which is something I tried once and swore I would never do again. Call me Jade for jaded, but I have a theory that “normal” guys don’t pay to attend singles events because it’s easy enough for them to meet women in the usual settings in this city where women outnumber men. I’ve run my hypothesis past some of my guy friends and the general consensus is one of agreement, but there were a few guys who said that they would do it or have done it because they don’t want to spend time cruising through profiles online and/or don’t have the time to go on the prowl. So, it was with that in mind that I agreed to join two of my friends for the “financially secure professionals age 33-44″ SD event. After all, I am a financially secure professional at the lower age range of that group, so what did I have to lose other than $40 and 2 hours of my life? And who knew, maybe I’d become an urban legend, you know one of those people who are offered up as proof that these events really do work. Maybe I’d be the person who is anonymously sourced in casual conversation as the “friend who met her fiance” there so as to give inspiration to the singletons of New York that we can date successfully in the most unlikely of places. Then again, maybe not.

I went to an SD event when I first moved to the city after the encouragement of a friend who dated several people from these events. It was only after I attended an event that she confessed that she frequently encountered non-native speakers, which sounds great at first because who doesn’t love a foreign accent and a well-travelled man. What she neglected to tell me was that some of the guys were still in ESL classes and to overcome the language barrier she had to engage in pantomime. Although I had an ESL guy at my event, who didn’t understand the rules of SD and ended our “date” by asking me “we go out again, yes, no?,” he was the most normal of them all. Highlights of my first SD event included a guy who reminded me of Screech from Saved by the Bell, whose first words out of his mouth was “I’m not going to ask you what you do or where you’re from, those will be questions 2 and 3, but if you had to own one, which one would you own, cat or dog and why?” Sweet mother of Allah, aidez-moi! Another guy hid his name tag and made me guess his first name. Seriously guy? We have 5 minutes to talk and you’re making me play “My name is.” The night was salvaged though when I became friends with the girl seated next to me. She has become one of my closest friends and it never gets old telling people that I picked her up at a SD event when we’re asked how we met.

So, it was with memories of Messrs. Screech and Guess My Name in mind that I arrived to the event. My skepticism was evident as my friend remarked, “the look of cynicism on your face right now is priceless.” I apologized and vowed to look like I was happy to be there. Here’s the review:

First up was the “Professional.” It started off with the Professional asking me if I had ever gone to a SD event before and I admitted that I had on one occasion. He then spent the next few minutes giving me his review of all the events he has attended. According to him the events held at the Trump World Bar are the best. He also kept trying to weasel it out of me which company’s SD event I had attended despite my protests that I didn’t remember. The Professional was the best looking out of the lot, but on boring side and I can’t help but wonder if he’s attended so many events then shouldn’t he have met someone by now?

Next up was the “Boob Starer,” who told me I looked like a “sexy robot.” Que? Sexy Robot? Is that a compliment? After two minutes, I have never had such an overwhelming compulsion to snap my fingers to break his trance and say “eyes up here buddy, EYES UP HERE!”). I compared notes with my friends and we all noticed that he was a little too into everyone’s “girls” as we all experienced the same lack of eye contact to boob ratio.

Then I met My Cousin Vinny, who was pushing 50. However, My Cousin Vinny was not the oldest gentleman of the group. That honor was reserved for a man we called Grandpa. Now you might think I’m being mean, but one of the guys gave him the nickname (and here I thought girls were catty). Grandpa was somewhere in his late 60s/early 70s and had children that were our age. Remember the age range was 33-44 not 33 + 44! Hello where is the SD bouncer when you need him? We agreed that if a woman showed up who was so clearly out of the dating age range of the group they wouldn’t let her attend. I thought to myself, I just speed dated a 70 year old, I feel dirty. Although I held my own with him, it was an uncomfortable round and we all intended to write a note to the organizers about the fact that he was in our group.

There were two nice guys, but I found myself wondering what friends I knew to set up with them….not a good sign for a romantic connection. My last date ended with the crowd’s favorite. I felt more of a friend connection with him than a Chuck Woolery Love Connection. Hopefully, one of my girls got matched up with “crowd’s favorite.” Because there weren’t 8 people there, we get to attend another event for free. I may go to another one to try to end on a high note and to prove my theory wrong. I’ll have to take a Chuck Woolery “two and two” break and get back to you.

On Friday night after a prolonged and much needed Happy Hour of cheap Margaritas and what seemed like a bottomless pit of chips and salsa at a local watering hole, I made it home just in time to watch Conan’s last show on NBC. At the end of the show, Conan made a classy and sentimental speech about how NBC had been his home for all of his adult life. That struck me as I realized that I’d been watching Conan all of my adult life as he had first debuted on Late Night during my freshman year of college. It was a very surreal realization and I suspect many of my peers who grew up watching him felt a bit nostalgic as well (or it may very well have been the earlier Margies making me a bit of a sentimental old fool, one can never discount the booze factor in situations like this).

I remember moving into the dorm freshman year and staying up later than I should have to watch Conan. I had an odd crush on this dorky redheaded comedian and loved the dynamic between Conan and Andy. However, I knew that Conan wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. I remember the days when Conan wasn’t catching on and he was always at risk of getting a pink slip. So, I guess you could say I was part of “Team Coco, The Early Years.”

I love Jay, but I never thought Jay at 10 p.m. would work. I did, however, think Conan as the host of the Tonight Show would. With that being said, what never worked for me was Conan in LA. Conan has a self-deprecating style and has built a career out of molding himself as an outsider. Conan seemed like someone who never expected to get invited to the party, which is why his fans loved him. Leno, on the other hand, seemed to be part of the LA establishment and was at home with the celebrities he interviewed.

In fact, I associate Conan with New York so much so that on Friday there was a part of me that forgot that Conan wasn’t in New York. It was when I was walking to the subway stop after work that for a brief moment I thought, “I should’ve taken today off and tried to get tickets to see Conan’s last show.” And then it hit me! Conan’s no longer here and as a result even if I wanted to help him “steal every single item in this studio,” I couldn’t because he was no longer at 30 Rock.

I thought Freebird was a great way to go out and the lyrics were appropriate. When I listen to that song, it reminds me of a bittersweet breakup. It’s like a relationship you don’t want to end because you still love each other and have had some great times, but you’ve reached a point where there’s too much water under the bridge. But with this divorce Conan can take his 30-40 million severance and join the ranks of the Park Avenue Divorcee. We will welcome him with open arms!