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- by Kazrasho
- 3 comments
For more than 5 years Shhh Dating has been helping creative and professional Londoners get it together! Shhh lets you meet people in a playful and meaningful new way. It gives you the opportunity to deeper romantic connections without talking. It's an entertaining evening out with others looking for the same things as you. Our format playfully takes guests through a series of carefully crafted games and eye gazing. Join up to 40 others in our Covent Garden pad for a night of Flirting and connection games. Shhh does dating parties like no other.
When the bell goes, we give each other a relieved smile and I move on to the next man, who has a wide face and freckles.
Dating, usually at an arranged event or club, through passing notes and gesturing. Soothing music or soothing whitenoise, such as sounds of. Instead, she pointed me towards a new silent dating app, Shhh. The concept was clear, and the app seemed pretty functionally identical to. And really awkward. But silent dating is actually a thing that people do voluntarily. The Daily Mail's Lucy Cavendish investigated the silent.
He gives me the earring thumbs-up again - who knew they would be such a non-talking point? The next man is a bit more inventive.
The second silent date is the latest attempt by Londoners to reinvent the intoxicating world of fleeting liaisons. Let me tell you about the time I went to a silent dating night. Yes, it's as bonkers as it sounds. But silent speed dating - or Shhh Dating, as it's. Together with Toilet Dating, Silent Dating is this summer's most talked about singles event. I first heard about Shhh Dating in an article in the.
He motions to ask if I play the piano. I shake my head, but let out a long high note to show him that I sing a bit.
Non-verbal communication: The object of silent dating is to strip away the masks we make for ourselves and reveal who we are inside. London's favourite silent speed dating event. Expect fun interactive games and authentic connections with young professionals in their 20s & 30s. In a nutshell, it's silent speed-dating; no talking allowed, the idea being that it will create "a deeper, instantaneous connection" between lonely.
He starts laughing. This is good - laughing, I can do. In fact, as the round goes on, I start relaxing. One man manages to ask me by miaowing and pretending to stroke his non-existent whiskers if I have cats, so I nod and then bark at him to show I have dogs, as well.
I go on to master motioning the guitar, the accordion and mouth-organ, before having an entire 'conversation' about horses. Enjoyable experience: It's fun, inventive - and preferable to spending hours with someone droning on. Then I notice the woman next to me: she is stroking the man's hand and making murmuring noises, while he looks as if he is in heaven.
Am I doing this all wrong? I'm being bouncy, not seductive. During the break I share my fears with Adam.
It's hard to reveal who we are inside because it makes us vulnerable. He asks me to sit opposite him and communicate non-verbally.
I look into his eyes and suddenly feel all warm and squidgy. Adam is somehow managing to convey honesty, fun, intelligence and a hint of sexiness - all in a single look.
He laughs, assuring me: 'It gets easier the more you do it. During the second round, I desperately try to tap into my 'inner Adam', but it's really difficult to hold a complete stranger's gaze.
I'm going for 'alluring' but I'm not convinced I'm not coming across as a lunatic. Many of the men can't stop messing around.
One keeps raising his eyebrows and making faces. The stare of the tall, dark man next to him is so intense I decide he may well be a serial killer. The gaze of the following chap is the most off-putting of the lot: unashamedly lascivious, and not in a good way.
He raises his eyebrow, licks his lips and makes small, semi-silent moans. I squirm uncomfortably. Still, by the end of the evening, I'm enjoying the whole experience. It's been fun, inventive and infinitely preferable to spending hours with someone droning on. I think I've caught a bald guy's eye, and may even have bonded with an attractive man wearing a diamond-patterned jumper.
At the end, I dash home, fretting over whether anyone will have ticked me to indicate they'd like to see me again. The next day I call Adam: 'How did I do? I sit there in indignant silence. That means ten crosses. Did diamond-patterned man or the bald guy tick me, at least? Why on earth not! Though these flirty games felt like a cross between a GCSE drama warm up and a pilates class, there was an intimation that all this was rooted in science.
Adam would sometimes defer to his assistant "science guru" who was quite unconvincingly nicknamed "The Doctress", but later admitted he was just "sort of making it up", which made me wonder why The Doctress was even there. The daters of The Jam Tree gave no fucks either way about science; they were just there for the whacky. After the end of the first half, we were advised to hush our beaks until part two kicked off, so daters legged it to the bar to order large white wines in Parseltongue.
By the time the bell rang, I'd sunk two pints of Kronenbourg and ready to eye-fuck the living daylights out of a stranger. The first customer in my one-stop love shop was a kind looking bloke in a T-shirt that read "Boom!
He seemed to be finding the whole thing a right laff until I fixed him with my glassy booze gaze. Looking for meaning, I ended up transfixed on the fleshy bits in the corners of his eyes, the pink, wet bits that look like the skin of peeled fish, while his eyebrows tried to engage me in conversation.
After a sobering minute, number 12, a zany characted, used his paper for a game of noughts and crosses. The next one burped and blew it towards me. The one after that I don't think realised his face was twitching at the mouth.
The Look of Love? – Shhh Dating
Or maybe he was just chewing a hangnail. The surprise of the night was a Joop-soaked man in a suit who somehow managed to look me in the eye and lick his lips without grossing me out.
I was absolutely sure he was excellent in the sack. As he rotated round the room, the Mexican wave of giggles from the girls suggested more knicker twitching was occurring. Double ticks for the lip-licker.
Just as I was starting to feel more loose in the hoose, the playlist took a cruel turn. On came "How to Build a Home" and an adorably smart guy in his mid twenties sat down in front of me, smiling. His eyes were straight-off-the-bat good guy vibes. He looked like a nice, normal, attractive bloke politely asking for love. He looked like someone who deserved my respect and I felt really cross with London as a city for putting us both in this humiliating position.
I Went to a Silent Speed-Dating Night in Clapham
I wondered if he wanted to build a home with me. Then I felt sad for not wanting to build a home with him. Then I wondered who the fuck I was going to build a home with. Was I drunk? I don't know. But suddenly, I felt more profoundly single than I have ever felt in my entire life. After the staring, it was back to awkward mingling where I checked with Rachel, 29 who was giving it all a go after giving up on Tinderif I was drunk.
She wasn't sure, but she said she felt tipsy, commenting, "It's just way too intimate. My friend who's into mindfulness pointed out that judging people based on how attracted I was to them and whether they could hold a decent conversation was a hiding to nothing - there was no way I'd be able to experience a meaningful connection with anyone if I pursued that path.
Instead, she pointed me towards a new silent dating app, Shhh. The concept was clear, and the app seemed pretty functionally identical to Tinder, just with the conversation function removed.
This made asking people out a bit of a struggle, but I hoped that I'd managed to suggest a time and a place to Simone by sending her screenshots of my local pub on Google maps along with a proposed time displayed on the clock app.
Fortunately, the message was successfully conveyed. I recognised her instantly when she walked in and stood up to greet her through mimed gestures and exaggerated facial expressions. Buying her a drink was a process of elimination; fortunately I'd had a word with the barman beforehand I'd assumed this was permitted and explained the situation, so he tolerated me pointing individually at every bottle behind the bar until, seventy-one ingredients later, we'd successfully mixed her a Commonwealth.
Once we'd finally got our drinks, we took a seat across from each other and sat gazing into each other's eyes. I'd assumed that doing so would allow us to discover some profound spiritual connection, but actually it just felt really confrontational after about ten seconds so it got awkward fast. I decided to crack a joke to ease the tension, but this backfired when I realised that the vast majority — possibly all — of my standby witty observations are expressed verbally.
I resorted to making a farting noise with my armpit.