Anyone who has ever been on a blind date knows that dating can be painful. Anyone who has ever been on a date, eyes wide open, knows the same. For the most part, dating is doomed to begin with. The male almost always is thinking "Sex!" the female is almost always thinking "Relationship" and in between you get all the variables, like "Friendship" and "S&M" and "Free dinner!"

It's a minefield, especially in Vancouver, where people are famously neither hostile nor friendly. Recently single, I embarked a dating spree that left my nerves, and my wallet, deep-fried like overpriced calamari on a restaurant table. The amount of sheer effort it takes to remain conversationally engaging when all you're really thinking about is, ahem, sex, is unbelievable. Not that sex is all I'm looking for, but the very prospect of having it is enough to convince the brain to think up witty banter, double entrendres, flirty subject matter and anything else to sabotage the efforts of a nice chat over a candlelight dinner. I won't shoulder all the blame. What about the girl who went out with me, and then told me about her boyfriend 2 hours later after all the above? What about the girl who ran, not walked, ran out the diner after the date concluded? It was with a heavy heart and a bruised ego that I accepted my co-workers offer to "fill-in" on a speed dating service. Apparently, women always far outweigh men in these things, and I was perfect to fill the male quota. Egos are sensitive creatures, and the prospect of 25 dates in 75 minutes lightened my load. To go on 25 dates in Vancouver, normal style, I'd be looking at something like 3 full days of non-stop talking, and the loss of several thousand dollars. Speed dating is like a triple feature squeezed into the trailers.

My first experience involved a trip to a popular bar during a hockey game. There is something intrinsically desperate about wearing a name badge that says "Speed Dater!" Nevertheless, popular bars, packed with patrons watching hockey seemed to feature regularly. Here's how it works. 25 women seated at 25 tables with a letter. 25 guys join them, for 3 minutes, before the bell rings. Guys move to the next alphabetical letter, girls stay where they are. It brings new meaning to "saved by the bell." Or, just when things get interesting, you have to move on and let another, possibly more charming fella have his way with your recent discovery. Such are the trials and tribulations of the game. And what is dating, if not a game? Some players even have strategies, rules, codes and signals to sift and sort the gems from the riff-raff. Almost always, the first question is "What do you do?" Almost always, I tried to think of something abnormal yet possibly real, like salmon scientist, or Greenpeace publicist, or UN Rare Forestry Expert, whatever the hell that is. Telling 25 women what I do is really no fun, especially for someone who doesn't know what they do in the first place. It would be 180 seconds of existential dilemma - far too distracting from the task at hand, which is, of course, meeting someone to have sex with. I mean have a relationship with. Whatever.

The conversation seemed OK once the initial embarrassment had subsided and the first few letters were in the bag. Whatever you looked like or whatever you did, a common grievance bonded all. And that is: It's difficult to meet people in this beautiful city, and difficult to hold down any kind of relationship. Even though Vancouver is smaller than New York and LA, it still manages to alienate singles searching for the right soy in their latte. "Bars and clubs are impossible," says Claire, an early thirty-something teacher. There were a lot of teachers. "The music is too loud and it's difficult to have a decent conversation." Bing! Sorry Claire, hold that thought. Hello Julia!

Everyone has a badge with numbers and a chart. If you like someone, you tick their number. If they like you, they'll tick yours. If you match anyone, 25 Dates emails you the contact email, and it's up to you to take it from there. Which is almost like being back at the beginning, except you've met someone who you absolutely know is maybe interested in you. Of course, in 3 minutes you don't absolutely know if the lucky date-to-be is a psychopath, but then that could be anyone. Dates that follow usually take place in restaurants, where you and your lucky find will order deep fried calamari.

My second 25 dates experience was a little different, in that I was marked down for an older age group. This means only one thing, and that is Cougar. Now Vancouver (or Vancouger) has some fantastic wild life, and Cougars are perhaps the most interesting. Cheap fur, tight pants, bleached hair, tanned skin, family jewels - spotting a Cougar in the wild is quite exhilarating. Having 25 conversations about one thing, can however be a little challenging. I was convinced that my age and profession (International Frisbee Oil Consultant) would lead to something more, but being so up close and personal kind of put me off. Nothing is as unattractive as desperation. At least that's what my ex-girlfriend used to say when I used to plead for some bedtime action. But I did feel lucky to get out of there without a marriage proposal. There were a couple of older gents who were right into it, and that's fantastic. I envied them, but at least I still have my hair.

The third trip, again as a fill in, was a younger demographic in a trendy pub. There was a hockey game on, surprise. The place was jammed, and we had the upstairs section. In the bathroom, I met a fellow speed-dater. Both of us had removed our name tags for the journey from the upper section to the bathroom. We're way too cool to be seen like this. With a younger group, it has to be said that the Average Attraction Meter was up although nothing above what you'd normally find at a bar. The difference is, these ladies had to meet me and I was pretty sure they didn't have a boyfriend (every attractive woman in this city does though.) I brought a friend of mine this time and he was shocked to see one of his ex-girlfriends at Table F. They had a bad break up, and we both new that Table F would last much longer three minutes. Bing!

By my third "fill-in" I also started noticing another trend. The girl at Table D dressed mannequins for a department store. The girl at Table K held the same occupation. It seemed that co-workers and colleagues were popular on the circuit , which put me at a distinct disadvantage, namely, I had to remember what the hell I had said to the one so that I could say the same to the other. Whether my ego could take two or three girls comparing notes about me was another matter. Still, I nevertheless always found a way to come off as a complete dink. Bing!

So what happens after the match? It might just be me, but I never found out. Not that I wasn't getting "approved" by the ladies - I had managed a sneak peak at the score cards when my colleague went to the bathroom at work the next day. 14 Yes-sirees for me. Take that Tom frikkin Cruise! One might argue that 14 Yays from 14 girls is a worthy feat, but one might also drown in a 3ft Jacuzzi , so what does one really know in the first place. My friend Patrick, the same guy who had a speed date with his ex girlfriend, had more luck. He went on 4 dates, all of which turned into nightmares. For one thing, he got confused with the names and faces, and on another, all the speed date accomplished was setting him up for more expensive, trying dates, and of course, the faithful deep fried calamari. Says Patrick "After a while, I just couldn't face it. I wanted the speed date to clear all the bullshit aside and make a path clear towards the bedroom." Yes ladies, there are men like Patrick all over the place, which is why you should do something like speed dating to know someone before embarking on any unexpected adventures, with people you probably met speed dating.

There are various types of speed dating services, offering several alternatives. Rotate-A Date gives you more time (7mins) with fewer partners (12). That might sound more realistic, until you wonder whether you really need 7 minutes with someone who is as interesting as a bag of stale potatoes. There is always room for personal, and vegetable growth. I did learn that Internet dating is way more popular than anyone thinks, with a lot of the bullshit taking place via email, over a time period as flexible as the sexual habits of a transsexual. When you meet, everyone is clear about what everyone is looking for (sex, companionship, two kids and a Volvo) and things can proceed in an ordinary modern manner. Says Jamie, 26 "It's a sexual revolution!" Which means more investigation from this weary, dated-out writer, and another story altogether. Bing!