Single in Sydney’s Sarah runs into the problem of another blonde Sarah cutting her speed dating man lunch

SARAH takes to the Streets (of Barangaroo) for a new spin on speed dating — but will a case of mistaken identity scupper her plans? The answer is yes.

Sarah Swain

3 min read

February 24, 2017 - 12:00AM

Manly Daily

Hey! Next time remember my name, right? It’s Swain. Sarah, Swain. Speed dating left her shaken, not stirred. Picture: Annika Enderborg

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JOURNALIST Sarah Swain has been single (but dating) for longer than she cares to remember. That’s because it’s tough out there, as any single will tell you, so to bring hope to others across the city, she’s sharing her no-holds-barred adventures on the Sydney single scene every week.

SPEED DATING IN BARANGAROO

ONE girl laughed out loud and motioned to her friend to look — and she also reacted by putting her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

And all around us, diners, mid-mouthful were clattering their cutlery as they rested it on the side of their plates, to stare.

It could have been the fact that there were so many of us being steered to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

Or it could have been because we all had our names written on a white sticky label stuck to our front.

I felt my face reddening.

Bel and Brio in Barangaroo was one of the venues.

I mean, they might as well have had the maitre’d make an announcement.

“Roll up! Roll up! See the sad singles! Those who have failed in the pursuit of love and are having to turn to such tragic events as speed dating in the last ditch attempt to find a life partner!”

Okay so the entrance was awkward.

But it was a chance to check out some of the hip new venues in Sydney’s newest hub, Barangaroo, while also meeting some of the men who work there.

Called Heartbeats on the Streets, the event was a collaboration between The Streets of Barangaroo and Dear Pluto, which arranges stuff like markets as well as dating events.

Many of the folk there were lucky enough to work in the gleaming new towers, as opposed to in my office where we have portable air-conditioners that look like Daleks after the system broke two weeks ago.

And yes it was dreaded speed dating — but with a difference.

Shirt Bar at Barangaroo offers shopping and drinking in the same place. What more could you want?

We were split into groups of about 15, with the male groups rotating around the girl groups at different restaurants.

(It was a while before things got underway though — apparently half the blokes had gone to the wrong bar — which wasn’t even in Barangaroo, and when no women turned up, ripped off their name tags and decided to go home.

The organiser, on discovering their mistake, apparently just managed to catch them and herd them back, like a bunch of lost dogs.)

One of the blokes who wandered off after going to the wrong bar. Picture: Fran Veale/Rex Features

People in IT can be hard to have conversations with because all they want to talk about is how huge their gigabytes are and how impressive their backends are.

I made a mental note not to pursue any of those. If they couldn’t find a bar they’d had no chance... ANYWAY.

The first group of men who came and sat down at the table were nice enough. They all seemed to work in finance or IT — but it was a bit of an effort keeping the chat going.

But the second lot included a tall British guy with a ‘tash who I thought might have some potential.

This is the Sarah you have been looking for.

So I filled out a card for him. And I filled out another for a slightly camp but cute guy in the final group, who’d seemed to be flirting with me.

You see, rather than messaging the folk you liked afterwards via some sloooooooow website like some speed dating events, this one had special cards handed out by organisers.

You filled out the person’s name on the front, and your name and number on the back.

You then handed it to one of the organisers, who passed it onto the person.

Simples?

It would have been.

Had there not been two Sarahs.

Two Sarahs, both with blonde hair.

One of the organisers came up to me at the afterparty, at rooftop bar Untied.

“I’m not sure if this is for you,” she said, handing me a card.

“But I’ll give it to you.”

It was addressed to “SARAH (Blonde)”.

And it was from “Mark”.

Now, I can’t recall a Mark. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t meet one.

He’d neglected to write “Sarah S”, which was what I had emblazoned on my chest.

And so the next morning I sent a message to the number he’d left.

‘Hi, Sarah here. Not sure if I’m the right Sarah but you didn’t say if the card was for Sarah S or the other one, so I thought I’d get in touch. I’m the tall, British Sarah.”

He didn’t reply.

And nor did the other two I’d handed my cards to.

Just what does a girl have to do to get a date these days?