It was basically just continual awkward silence punctuated by a sentence here and there.
We were told to meet the guys at Cafe Citron near Dupont Circle at instead of (ugh).
When I told people I was going on a Grouper their first reaction was always, “What if you all like the same guy? My friends and I had come up with a few pre-thought-out questions to ask the group in case of any awkward silences even though we probably wouldn’t need them, I mean, how can six people not think of anything to say to one another, right?
” Dude, I don’t know, what if that happens on a normal night at a bar or a party? Unfortunately, as it turned out, we needn’t have worried. Well, we went through our secret list of questions within the first 20 minutes or so.
The classic model of marriage and partnership is changing.
One reason is because internal and external pressures on marriage cause increasingly undeliverable expectations.
Where once we were socially connected to communities and extended families over a lifetime, couples now expect their primary relationship to deliver all that comfort and connection. A friend recently approached me about going on a Grouper with her. It’s a group date—3 women who are already friends meet up for drinks with 3 guys who are already friends (or 3 women/3 women, 3 men/3 men).The idea, of course, is that it will be less awkward if you’re with a couple friends, and you’ll get to meet not one potential mate, but three. It costs $20 per person, per Grouper, but that does at least include one drink.Without hesitation, I agreed to go, figuring it would be either really awesome (all the publicity photos, after all, show people having a bang-up good time) or really terrible.Either way, therefore, it was going to be a fantastic story.So my friend, another friend and I signed up using the mobile app. Instead they (allegedly) use your Facebook profiles to match you up with your dates. All were on a Thursday at 8 p.m., which I thought was unfortunate—a girl likes her beauty sleep after all, but then I realized that I’m not 80-years-old so I should STFU about it and act like the young, hip single gal I pretend to be.