You Can’t Swipe Right In Real Life: Singles Nights Are Back – Here’s What They’re Really Like
As I walk from the Tube to Bar D4100 in Southeast London, the butterflies in my stomach slosh around with the two canned cosmopolitans I consumed on the journey to calm my nerves. It’s a Tuesday evening, and I’m en route to Dinner For 100’s singles night. Checking my makeup in my phone’s front camera, I spot a girl walking behind me with a similar ‘What the hell am I doing?’ look on her face. Emboldened by my desperation to avoid showing up alone, I ask if she’s going. Luckily for me, Nicole is, and I’ve secured myself a debrief buddy for the night.
We bond over our shared disillusionment with dating apps. I have downloaded and deleted Hinge roughly 15 times in the past seven months. My relationship with the apps is fraught; much like returning to a toxic ex, you know you’ll end up feeling worse, but you can’t help trying again hoping this is the time it works.
But app fatigue and a post-pandemic desire to get offline has led to a surge in IRL dating events. Tonight was my first one ever – and in an attempt to see if real life had more to offer than the endless swipe, I had two more booked over the next 10 days.
Upon arrival, we are greeted by D4100 co-founders Jake Bucknall and Jacob Stuttard. They welcome us like old friends, instantly setting a relaxed tone. The idea of a singles night conjures horror scenes of awkward silences and feigned interest as you answer the same question for the fifth time – but since 2020, D4100 has been offering a refreshing alternative, perfected over the course of 50 events.
Candlelit tables set with name cards quickly fill with the buzz of nervous guests. And so it begins.
With the help of cheap Aperol spritzes, pizza and an icebreaker pub quiz, my anxiety dissipates and I start to feel as if I’m at a dinner party where everyone happens to be single. Tables seat equal numbers of men and women and there are no designated conversational partners; instead we are encouraged to chat freely with those around us.
“It’s about creating a space that doesn’t feel like a singles event, where people can cut through the awkward small talk and relax into conversation,” Bucknall explains. Their formula? “First, making a fool of ourselves, because it helps everyone else feel more comfortable.” (The D4100 hosts double as French-horn-playing quiz masters, bonding guests through friendly competition and comic quips.) “Then, ensuring everyone meets everyone – if we don’t do that, we haven’t done our job right.”
Throughout the evening, we swap tables five times. Each new seating arrangement marks the beginning of a round, where for 20 to 30 minutes we chat and eat (and I attempt to time my questions to avoid catching someone mid-bite). And while you can’t manufacture a spark, I realise that dating events create the opportunity for light to catch – offering permission to approach a stranger and let fate (or, well, alcohol) take it from there.
Later in the week, I attend Speedy Dating at a wine bar, where host Gemma Davies puts a unique spin on the format. Seated at a long table alongside other women participants, I get to know the men opposite me in three-minute conversations punctuated by Davies’ gong, which signals it’s time for them to move one seat over. These rounds of small talk serve as the pregame, then guests are encouraged to stay for DJ sets and karaoke to pursue connections in a more laidback setting.
“People’s preconceptions of speed dating are outdated, stiff and awkward,” says Davies. “My event is more of a party that allows people to have decent conversation with everybody. It’s giving people the chance to chat with those they wouldn’t necessarily match with online.”
I leave surprised, both by how slow and how fast three minutes can feel. One dater treats me to an (unprovoked) demonstration of his comedic impressions, in the form of a geographical tour of British accents. A self-described political ‘moderate’ implies that my progressive opinions are solely based on emotion, rather than critical thinking. Somehow he does this within the first minute and a half, leaving me mutely nodding along while the remaining seconds tick by. For better or for worse, you can’t swipe left in real life.
08.08.2024
The third dating event I attend is hosted by Astrology Circles at a tiki bar. Sipping tropical rum punch in a light-up glass, I approach a group of women. They help explain the personalised guide we’ve all received, which details our best matches according to our star signs. After I spot my two top matches across the bar, both at least 6 inches shorter than me, I instantly regret not checking my horoscope before coming.
Host Zoe Astrology admits that getting men to sign up is challenging, so she used dating apps to invite men directly. I meet one of the recruits, James. “I was shit scared,” he says. “I’ve never done anything like this, but when I got [Zoe’s] message I thought, ‘You only live once.’ Because of the pandemic lockdowns and fear of getting rejected, we forgot how to approach and talk to strangers. These events help get you out of that. Also, hot girls tend to be into astrology.” We chat for a good portion of the evening, then say goodbye without swapping numbers. I’m not sure if our incompatible signs were behind our lack of chemistry, but sometimes it’s just not written in the stars.
Back to my time at D4100, my debriefs with the other women begin to mirror those at high school slumber parties. We squeal when seated next to each other and exchange knowing glances as we put faces to the names of the men we’ve discussed earlier. As dinner draws to a close, some of us stumble to a nearby pub to share our thoughts about the night.
“Tonight was a beautiful reminder of how simple it is to get to know someone – all you have to do is ask a few questions and have a bit of a laugh,” fellow participant and new friend Izzy observes. Nicole chimes in: “I much preferred this to dating apps because of the natural human interaction, the camaraderie. Apps make dating feel so commodified; we’re reduced to a few images and prompts.”
As we venture into the late hours, I’m convinced that romance is alive and well in London. A group chat starts up with the D4100 girls, sharing screenshots of ‘when are you free?’ texts, alongside updates punctuated with blushing emojis from those who went home with their D4100 crushes.
By the end of the three events, I find myself able to strike up conversations with strangers in ways I never had the courage to before. Whether it’s complimenting a girl’s shoes on the train or finding an excuse to chat with the cute guy outside the bar, dating IRL served as a kind of exposure therapy for talking to strangers. I think about the connections I might have missed over the past 10 days if I hadn’t gotten over myself and said ‘hello’. This includes the D4100 women’s group chat and the cute guy from outside the bar, who told me he was glad I found an excuse to talk to him while we were on our first date.
Genuine human connection – whether romantic or platonic – thrives when we give each other and ourselves a chance. And this is precisely what dating events provide the space and permission to do, awkward small talk and all.
Jamison Kent is a freelance arts and culture writer based in London
