Dating on Speed

So tonight's activity-- speed dating + a dance. Cue the scary music.
The last time there was a speed-dating activity, we were only supposed to have 3 minutes with each person. I got "lucky" and they forgot to have people switch while I was partnered up with "Andrew" (ok, ok, that's really his name), who was nearly intolerable. I asked him every question on the list. He answered every one, further revealing his blah-personality (or lack thereof), and never gave me anything to work with. I'm sure he thought I found him fascinating, because he never asked me a single question. I think I had to endure him for about 7 hours. Or 9 minutes, but who's counting?
Still, my dear friends Paul and Kacie met at that activity, and have been in couple-bliss ever since. They are convinced tonight is my night. I am not, but I'm going anyway. I don't even really know why. Desperation, perhaps?
The lady who periodically cleans my parents' house was here yesterday. She told me she thinks she's pregnant, but she hopes she isn't because a) her husband said "no more children" (she already has two DARLING boys) and b) because she thinks she's old. She's 37. I told her my mom was almost 36 when she had Ashley, hoping to give her some encouragement. I don't think it worked, and I'm not sure such an argument would convince me either. I'd always hoped that I'd have my all my children by about 32 or 33, so I'd have more energy and keep up with them better. As for me, with no legitimate prospects on the horizon in even the boyfriend department, it looks like I won't be married for a few years yet. Chances are that if I do get married in the next several years, I won't have the luxury to wait a while to procreate, because my body probably will protest. It's not that I necessarily want a baby-- let's be honest, they scare me!-- but I don't want to be taking Jemima to her first day of kindergarten as a grey-haired old-lady, with girls 15-years my junior doing the same.
Now, don't get me wrong. During my 3 minutes with each of the gents tonight, I'll not be evaluating them for potential-father-to-my-children status. That makes it sound like a sperm-bank. Truthfully, I doubt I'll even be evaluating them at all, because I'll be wondering if they've noticed the monstrous pimple lurking on my chin (even with birth control, occasionally zits happen), or if they're figuring they can figure out my political affiliation by the way I dress, or if they're just looking down the line at the next girl they get to talk to. But when it's all said and done, I hope I can just stand in my own little corner, and dance with my eyes closed for a while, and pretend that I'm jammin' alone with my iPod in my house.
If I were to evaluate them this evening, it might be just to figure out which one I'd like to kiss, because I haven't been doing any kissing for nearly a month now, and speaking as a kissing addict, that's a long time. Oh dear. I sound like a 16-year-old boy.
OK. I promise to report. Here's hoping it'll be painless, or even fun.
PS. Last night, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I realized that two boys from different parts of my dating history are now roommates. I just hadn't put two-and-two together before. I don't even know what set the epiphany in motion. Neither one knows of my involvement with the other. This could get interesting. Or messy. Oops, I did it again.