Whisky talk is a new segment on the blog written in honour of the grand schemes and wayward thoughts only the water of life can induce. A toast to those peculiar ideas that swirl around the table as the bottle empties and the mind fills with uncanny certainties about how the world should function, and would, were we were in charge for just one day. And if tomorrow’s sunrise leaves us sore-headed and unable to piece together the shattered notions of our booze-induced revolution? Well, none of that really matters. After all, it was only the whisky talking.

        Let’s start with something deep and meaningful, just the way old JD would like it…

          I went speed dating once. It was a while back and was the most awkward thing I’ve ever done. Okay, that’s not true. The most awkward thing I’ve ever done was sing ‘Hit me baby one more time’ on the shop floor of Toys R Us because I was late for work. We didn’t shift a single karaoke machine that day. That song is nothing without the pigtails.

     I went with a friend, who will remain nameless (to save her embarrassment and not because I made her up), and we were asked by the organisers if we were actually a couple. As if people would voluntarily sit on a dating conveyor belt for FUN. How would that conversation even go? ‘Hi, hun, nice day at work? Fancy going speed dating?’ At best, it’s a very public way of figuring out you don’t like each other. After a string of women asking whether being a Detective is just like in the movies and whether I had ever shot anyone, I decided it wasn’t for me. And when the results came in, as I’m sure will come as no surprise, I wasn’t for them either.

     A better use for the format would be a kind of Speed Therapy. People attend with a particular ethical or everyday issue they’re struggling with and meet, for only three minutes, a series of people who provide ideas that may help their predicament. When the egg timer runs through, the other person gets three minutes to return the favour. Making it anonymous with an optional curtain of some sort between the two participants may help their confidence in discussing their chosen concern. Fear of judgement stops us divulging our deepest, most broken aspects of ourselves and these are the areas in most need of healing.

     Our social circles tend to be a snug fit, generally comprising of people of similar backgrounds, class and political views. Speed therapy has the potential to open our influences up to a range of people from intellectual and spiritual positions we hadn’t even considered. The benefits to that are clear. Whilst you may be surrounded by social ‘yes’ people unwittingly, and unintentionally, reflecting the words you want to hear, these anonymous strangers would have no interest in keeping you the way you are, because they don’t know who you are, only that you’re someone with a problem they may be able to help with.

     There’s something here for singletons too. True connection comes from a place of vulnerability. Being truly vulnerable is incredibly difficult to do. Over the years, negative experiences build up and stunt our ability, or willingness, to really open up. Speed therapy would be a far better way to get to know each other. Far better than trying to squeeze in as many well-rehearsed, self-gratifying anecdotes into a hurried three minute advert of how we’d like the other person to perceive us. Surely appreciating each other’s vulnerabilities from the outset is a better indicator of future romantic stability than anything divulged in bland conversations about music tastes and body counts?