“Lady Jalebi is a young, vibrant Londoner quite happily living the single life and playing the field. Her anxious parents however, think it’s high time she settled down and are on a quest to find the perfect Desi guy for her to marry. From set ups to speed dating, join her each month as she provides a light-hearted insight into some of her weird and wonderful encounters on the long journey to find The One.”

I hesitated nervously, wondering for the umpteenth time if I was going to regret this later. F*^k it. I clicked the button forcefully and voilà, I was now the proud owner of two ‘Muslim Speed Dating’ tickets.

I had received an email about this event and was curious. It will be fun, I told myself. It might also be full of desperate losers. I was so unsure whether to do it that I had even solicited my mother’s opinion. I expected her to disapprove but instead she was adamant that I go and find my future husband there. Great, now I couldn’t get out of it even if I tried.

I didn’t want to go alone but nearly everyone I asked to accompany me was either not single, not Muslim or simply not interested. Naveed however, was curious like me. He was Muslim, but not single - so he planned on watching me in action from the sidelines. I hadn’t seen him in a while so it seemed like the perfect excuse to catch up.

It was held at Opium, an intimate venue with lots of plush décor. The irony of a bunch of Muslims in a bar was not lost on me. We sat down amongst the opulent cushions and exchanged gossip. As I listened, my roving eyes scanned the room for talent. There wasn’t much on display but it was still early. My sights finally rested on one guy who I could tell was Bengali from his features. He was cute - smiley, slim and slightly taller than me. He was also going to be mine by the end of the night.

Somewhere a gong sounded and it was time for the games to begin. I was given a number and a corresponding table to sit at. I had 3 minutes with each guy and I’d be meeting ten in the first half hour, followed by a break and then the remaining ten. As I waited for the first guy, I looked over to the other women. They all looked so bored and disillusioned, as if all their youthful optimism had been sucked dry and replaced with cynicism and low expectations. It dawned on me that I was the youngest person here and possibly five years too early for this sort of thing.

Determined not to be a sourpuss like the other girls, I put on my most dazzling smile for bachelor number 1. He seemed nervous but pleasant enough. It felt like we’d barely exchanged pleasantries when the gong sounded again. The majority of men there were professional city slickers in their late 20s/early 30s who worked long hours and didn’t have time to meet people. Most seemed like your Average Mo’ although a few stood out…

There was the extremely short guy who told me he liked writing poetry. What he lacked in stature he evidently made up for in sensitivity. I was impressed as my only hobbies were sleeping, Facebooking and spending hours on the phone. When he asked me if I’d like to read some I found myself nodding hesitantly out of politeness with a quizzical expression on my face. Quicker than you could say ‘vertically challenged’ he whipped out a folder and handed me a neatly written soppy poem complete with plastic wallet! I was speechless - I’m sure the other nineteen girls he handed them out to were as well.

One hunk of a man kept trying to convince me he worked as a dolphin trainer in the States. I couldn’t focus on anything other than the bulging muscles threatening to burst through his tight blue t-shirt, and kept losing track of conversation. His deadpan nature didn’t help either, as I couldn’t tell if he was consciously trying to be funny or not.

Another guy who seemed quite nice initially totally freaked out once he discovered he was ten years older than me. He stopped talking and just stared at me as if in fear of facing imminent paedophilia charges if he was ever caught associating with me. I’m guessing he didn’t tick my box.

Then there was Mr. Obnoxious - an extremely rude and disinterested fellow who ironically, I ended up getting a lift home with once we had bonded over our love for cars later on, and also discovered that we also lived in the same neighbourhood. I was impressed by his Nissan 350Z and wanted to get into his car; he was impressed by my seductive dancing and wanted to get into my pants. He did not succeed.

When Bengali Guy finally came to my table I turned the charm on full blast. There was a spark between us and we got on surprisingly well. I knew I had to see him again so I made him tick my box. I actually pointed to it and refused to let him go until he’d ticked it. He didn’t seem to mind my unorthodox methods and I could tell he liked me. Perhaps I was a little heavy-handed but he was a keeper!

As the final gong went I was glad to be reunited with Naveed. We both had a great time. He had happily discussed engagement rings with a fellow non-single spectator while I had fun meeting some interesting characters. I would definitely recommend it for the surreal experience, not to mention the prospect of getting lucky. Let’s just see how my luck turns out with Mr. Bengali Guy…!

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