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Part 3: The Games Begin

All too soon we were hustled from the comparative comfort of the bar and to our starting positions (at a table corresponding to the number stuck on your chest along with you name). There was a short and somewhat ear-splitting demonstration of the whistle that would be used to indicate when it was time to swap partners and then we were off…

I had, before embarking on the entire affair, wondered what I would actually talk about, I had even considered "I kill for money, what do you do?" as an opening gambit but, when the time came, I was rather more worried about appearing to be normal than I was about smart lines. Happily I was lined up first with a Kiwi lass and, as we all know, Kiwis are great sorts.

Consequently it wasn't too difficult to ramble on fairly happily and, as so often happens with these things, three minutes seemed rather a short span of time when the first whistle went.

Rather more relaxed than I had been, I approached the second of my dates for the evening and, once again (somewhat to my surprise - I, like many people I suppose, had thought this kind of event would be populated by oddballs) she turned out to be a friendly and not unattractive type.

It was at this point that I began to size up the male opposition (it's my competitive nature) and started to notice something. In the first place, the event had been delayed by about half an hour because some of the guests had failed to turn up - all men I might add. Secondly, I noticed that, whereas the ladies had arrived in groups, the gents had obviously, for the main part, turned up singly. Finally, and cruelly, the ladies were, in general, several rungs up the ladder from the gents - if you catch my drift…

This struck me as a bit weird until I realised that the girls were obviously having fun and not taking things too seriously whereas the blokes seemed to be the reverse - indicating, perhaps, that ladies see this kind of thing as an entertaining social evening but men in general see it as something rather more important. I could, of course, be completely wrong.

Of course, it was bound to happen that at some point I would end up with someone I didn't like - the law of averages makes this a certainty. True enough, on my fifth or sixth date (by now feeling overconfident and generally twinkly) I met with someone who, I soon found out, was about as interesting as a brick, similarly shaped and obviously felt the same about me.

There is a point folks when you realise that, in some cases, three minutes can feel like a very, very long time indeed. The bad thing is you can't just leave (although one girl I was talking to at some point mentioned that one of her dates had gone to the bar and not come back until the whistle went again…) and you have to try and be pleasant, or at the very least politely interested. Still, I survived - and it was round about this time that the whistle blew three long blasts to signify half time.

NEXT Part 4: Half Time

Certainly one of Americas best exports! - I loved every minute of it. I came with a group of workmates and all of us had an amazing night. I will definitely be back if it doesn't work out with one of my matches" 

Anna, Balham

"I felt compelled to email and let you know how much fun I had last night, the people there were great and it was all so well organised" 

Russell, Wimbledon