The night’s events take place at the Foreign Correspondent’s Club (FCC), a bar and restaurant with a huge amount of history in
I arrive at 7pm, my faux-hawk looking quite sexy. I stand around awkwardly for about 15 minutes before anyone else I know shows up, and then the ball gets rolling. Registration (which, for the bachelors being auctioned, is free), description of the rules and schedule for the evening, acquisition of first and second drinks, etc. And then the Speed Dating begins...
Speed dating consists of men sitting around cocktail tables, engaging in 3 minute conversations with the women who rotate around them. Drinks are free-flowing, and after every date, I write down the name of my date on a piece of paper and then check a box next to their name as either “no interest,” “friend interest,” or “love interest.” A few days after the event, the organizers are to email out the list of people who were correctly matched with me as either a friend or love interest (meaning they also checked the same box, i.e. we were on the same page).
Luckily, nobody takes this event too seriously. I have heard that in the
Halfway through speed-dating, the Charity Bachelor Auction begins. All of the proceeds from the bids are donated to the Starfish Foundation, an NGO doing work locally. Eight of the most eligible bachelors in Phnom Penh are auctioned off, four in this first round, and four after a subsequent round of speed dating. The audience surges as many people, including all of my colleagues, come upstairs just to see us eligible men sell our bodies for charity.
Each man who is called before me (“Come on down!") walks to the stage and looks fairly terrified as their biographies are read and as the bidding begins. Finally, it is my turn, and I walk up and strike a pose. I’m quite terrified as well, and at one point I look into the audience and see my friend Jeni signaling for me to smile. This gesture even surprises me, being the smiley person that I am. Though really, I was just displaying my Blue Steel pose. I swear!
For those who are interested, the official biography of my life until this point is the following:
Lee hails from
Lee attended Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island, the smallest state in the
[A sentence about my work here in
Lee has been in Cirque du Soleil and was once asked to work for a kitchen on a boat in the Galapagos. His pesto has already become famous across
Lee has chatted with Thom Yorke about
Lee enjoys getting hyphy, good trying, Huge in Asia, going to Trader Joe's, Pachamama, volleyball, Piling Rats, kicking SIT Bolivia’s ass for being good at life, Portland, Oregon, pretending to know something about architecture, and Rogue Wave.
Each woman does not just bid on a man to give the proceeds to charity—she receives something out of it in return! Each bachelor has a date lined up. My date, arranged with the help of my friend Lis, consists of a charming drive through smoggy
The bidding starts at $10, and continues in $5 increments up and up and up. A young woman who I don’t know has the high bid for a few seconds, and I am excited. And then Lili, my boss’ wife, outbids her at $40. Lili wins, which is completely hilarious. I exit the stage and present her with a rose and a hug.
[Unfortunately, Lili left a week later, and we were not able to go on our date. This means I currently have free reign over taking someone to my liking J]
The man who takes the highest auction price is Eitan, a 25-year-old Israeli who was able to line up a one-hour airplane flying lesson for his date. Naturally, he goes for $100.
The night continues in revelry and dancing. I am interviewed by the Cambodia Daily, whose reporters excel at investigative journalism—they even participate in speed dating, certainly mixing business with pleasure. Unfortunately, none of my quotes are used in the article, which I will post right here (Thanks Suzy!):
A few had wives or girlfriends-even a telltale wedding ring-but none saw anything wrong with a Valentine's night-out playing the "speed-dating" field at the FCC's rooftop terrace.
Women, clutching glasses of free-flowing wine and beer, moved from table to table every three minutes, and daters ranked their new acquaintances in the margins of a list of names as potential friends or lovers-or neither.
Originally conceived by a Jewish rabbi to ensure that Jewish singles could meet each other in large cities, speed-dating-as it is known-seems to suit the transient, nomadic flux of Phnom Penh's expat population, according to organizers and participants at the FCC.
Attended by 30 men and 30 women, the serial-dating challenge was "a fun way to introduce new people," said FCC head chef Lucia Dengate, adding that the format appeals to people because it is non-committal.
The 60 participants paid $11 at the door, or $9 in advance, to join the event. Most agreed they got their money's worth: a bell rang every 3 minutes to signal that women should move along to their next date.
At the end of the night, daters submitted their forms-with each date's score-to the organizers who will later notify participants of the outcome by e-mail, FCC Group Operations Manager Michelle Duncan said.
Contacted on Thursday, Duncan said that three or four romantic matches were made, but friendship seemed to be the dominant feeling to come out of the night.
It was the second speed-dating night held at the FCC, and was punctuated by a charity "bachelor auction," in which women bid on dates with eight different men.
The auction was the brainchild of two British expatriates, Jeni Dixon and Edward Pollard, after several late-night discussions with friends about "how few single, straight barang guys there are" in Phnom Penh's social circle, Dixon, 27, wrote in an e-mail.
The names of the bachelors for auction were listed on a chalkboard under the heading "Today's Special," and they were cheekily described as a tree hugger, a mama's boy, a proteomic scientist, and a "dark-haired, blue-eyed, long-lashed beauty of a man."
A US Embassy staffer was among the lucky women with winning bids in the auction, which ultimately raised $460 for the Indochina Starfish foundation, a local children's NGO.
Mitchell Isaacs, a 26-year-old bachelor who fetched $55 in the auction, said he was a bit overwhelmed by the attention.
"Who wants to buy me? That's pretty intense," the Australian national said, adding that he was pleased with the price he sold for. "I was expecting, like, $12," he said.
Choup Channa, who observed the teeming crowd of expat daters from a nearby table, thought that speed-dating would be an ideal social event for young, 20-something Cambodians.
"It's a way to be acquainted before being boyfriend-girlfriend," said the 25-year-old Khmer teacher.
"It'd be a good way to meet," she said, "as long as the parents didn't find out."
Two days later, I receive an email with the names of two ladies who are matched as “Love Interests” and three who are matched as “Friend Interests.” That means I was part of about 1/2 of the love matches made that night. Holla!
I definitely went into this whole night thinking I would revel more in how ironic and ridiculous the night would be. But I ended up getting caught up in the excitement and real fun of it all! Really, quite like my experience on The Price is Right, if not quite so flashy.
2 comments:
um, you're hilarious! and i think your description of the whole event is about as good as i'll get without having been there. (i was also quite excited that meg and i went there when we were in phnom penh--by the way, i know i spelled that wrong--so i was able to picture it even better). i made a pretty weak pitch to fatima that all three of us should meet in bangkok for a weekend. something tells me that wont happen. but i'm travelling all of april. probably trekking in sikkim for two weeks if you would like to join....
and why cant you talk about work anymore on your blog?
hyphee!
i think you should change your name to leE-40
Seated alone at tables strewn with flower petals, 30 of Phnom Penh's eligible expatriate men anxiously awaited the ring of Cupid's bell on Wednesday night.
A few had wives or girlfriends-even a telltale wedding ring-but none saw anything wrong with a Valentine's night-out playing the "speed-dating" field at the FCC's rooftop terrace.
Women, clutching glasses of free-flowing wine and beer, moved from table to table every three minutes, and daters ranked their new acquaintances in the margins of a list of names as potential friends or lovers-or neither.
Originally conceived by a Jewish rabbi to ensure that Jewish singles could meet each other in large cities, speed-dating-as it is known-seems to suit the transient, nomadic flux of Phnom Penh's expat population, according to organizers and participants at the FCC.
Attended by 30 men and 30 women, the serial-dating challenge was "a fun way to introduce new people," said FCC head chef Lucia Dengate, adding that the format appeals to people because it is non-committal.
The 60 participants paid $11 at the door, or $9 in advance, to join the event. Most agreed they got their money's worth: a bell rang every 3 minutes to signal that women should move along to their next date.
At the end of the night, daters submitted their forms-with each date's score-to the organizers who will later notify participants of the outcome by e-mail, FCC Group Operations Manager Michelle Duncan said.
Contacted on Thursday, Duncan said that three or four romantic matches were made, but friendship seemed to be the dominant feeling to come out of the night.
It was the second speed-dating night held at the FCC, and was punctuated by a charity "bachelor auction," in which women bid on dates with eight different men.
The auction was the brainchild of two British expatriates, Jeni Dixon and Edward Pollard, after several late-night discussions with friends about "how few single, straight barang guys there are" in Phnom Penh's social circle, Dixon, 27, wrote in an e-mail.
The names of the bachelors for auction were listed on a chalkboard under the heading "Today's Special," and they were cheekily described as a tree hugger, a mama's boy, a proteomic scientist, and a "dark-haired, blue-eyed, long-lashed beauty of a man."
A US Embassy staffer was among the lucky women with winning bids in the auction, which ultimately raised $460 for the Indochina Starfish foundation, a local children's NGO.
Mitchell Isaacs, a 26-year-old bachelor who fetched $55 in the auction, said he was a bit overwhelmed by the attention.
"Who wants to buy me? That's pretty intense," the Australian national said, adding that he was pleased with the price he sold for. "I was expecting, like, $12," he said.
Choup Channa, who observed the teeming crowd of expat daters from a nearby table, thought that speed-dating would be an ideal social event for young, 20-something Cambodians.
"It's a way to be acquainted before being boyfriend-girlfriend," said the 25-year-old Khmer teacher.
"It'd be a good way to meet," she said, "as long as the parents didn't find out."
--an enterprising journalist
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