One of my friends from my first year of college works for Grouper, a New York based startup that arranges meetings between two groups of friends- three men and three women. They recently expanded to other cities, and when I found out that they hit Seattle I knew I wanted in. What could be more hilarious than a man and a woman on a blind date? SIX men and women on a blind date.
I received a text from her on a Monday. They had a group of men who wanted to go out, and could I find a few women to join us? I furiously texted all five of the fun, single women I know in this city and one, who I'd met about two weeks earlier, responded. She pulled in another woman she'd met in the last month, and lo and behold, we had ourselves a Grouper!
They were Microsofties, ages 26 to 29, well-educated, polite, fluent in a few languages, and most importantly, FUN. We bar hopped until midnight on a Thursday, drinking and playing skeeball, talking about travel and sharing dead baby jokes. At the end of the night, numbers were exchanged and they invited us to go clubbing the next evening.
That Friday, for the first time in years, I went out with men who had a lot of money. In fact, the last time I hung out with men who made more money than I do, I was living with a Microsoft program manager. This time around, we met up at a condo building in Belltown where a doorman signed me in and buzzed me through two secured entrances. The immaculate two-bedroom had a close, unobstructed view of the Space Needle. Lounge music played on a sound system. The owner offered to make me a drink and gave me the choice of several liquors, none of which you would find in a frat house. I took a vodka tonic, and he insisted I try cognac as well. He asked me to pick out a shirt for him to wear from his closet. When I commented on how professional his wardrobe appeared, he shrugged like it was no big deal, "I get my shirts pressed."
We took cabs to Trinity Nightclub, even though it was a short distance away and completely walkable. The men knew the bouncer so we bypassed the line and avoided the cover charge. They paid for all our drinks, and we danced our youthful hearts out until the club closed. "If this is what dating was like all the time in Seattle," I thought, "I'd be content."
At 4 am, sufficiently drunk and awaiting an international flight in six hours, I thanked them for a fun evening and headed home. My female Grouper companion also headed out, but to the home of one of our new friends to have sex. Some of us are luckier than others.
We never saw them again, but I would call that Grouper a success. Once in awhile, it's nice to have a few men without facial hair buy you drinks and open taxi doors for you.
I received a text from her on a Monday. They had a group of men who wanted to go out, and could I find a few women to join us? I furiously texted all five of the fun, single women I know in this city and one, who I'd met about two weeks earlier, responded. She pulled in another woman she'd met in the last month, and lo and behold, we had ourselves a Grouper!
They were Microsofties, ages 26 to 29, well-educated, polite, fluent in a few languages, and most importantly, FUN. We bar hopped until midnight on a Thursday, drinking and playing skeeball, talking about travel and sharing dead baby jokes. At the end of the night, numbers were exchanged and they invited us to go clubbing the next evening.
That Friday, for the first time in years, I went out with men who had a lot of money. In fact, the last time I hung out with men who made more money than I do, I was living with a Microsoft program manager. This time around, we met up at a condo building in Belltown where a doorman signed me in and buzzed me through two secured entrances. The immaculate two-bedroom had a close, unobstructed view of the Space Needle. Lounge music played on a sound system. The owner offered to make me a drink and gave me the choice of several liquors, none of which you would find in a frat house. I took a vodka tonic, and he insisted I try cognac as well. He asked me to pick out a shirt for him to wear from his closet. When I commented on how professional his wardrobe appeared, he shrugged like it was no big deal, "I get my shirts pressed."
We took cabs to Trinity Nightclub, even though it was a short distance away and completely walkable. The men knew the bouncer so we bypassed the line and avoided the cover charge. They paid for all our drinks, and we danced our youthful hearts out until the club closed. "If this is what dating was like all the time in Seattle," I thought, "I'd be content."
At 4 am, sufficiently drunk and awaiting an international flight in six hours, I thanked them for a fun evening and headed home. My female Grouper companion also headed out, but to the home of one of our new friends to have sex. Some of us are luckier than others.
We never saw them again, but I would call that Grouper a success. Once in awhile, it's nice to have a few men without facial hair buy you drinks and open taxi doors for you.
