Eight minute dating was educational. I never made it off the waiting list. Software engineers flock to these types of things, so the male to female sign-up ratio was desperately askew. My housemate, Cee Cee, was accepted immediately after registering. She was super calm and unenthusiastic the whole time. We agreed that we were there for the sheer novelty of it all.

It didn't bother me that I wasn't an official part of the party. It wasn't as glamorous of an event as I expected. Socially inexperienced men sported Hawaiian T-shirts, collared polos, and their worst social ticks. The women looked like they popped strait out of an ad for Ross Dress for Less and feigned interest when the video game programmers gushed about their new first person shoot 'em up. I've seen more interesting, more confident people at freshmen orientations.

I did what any ousted party leader would do -- I organized my own splinter cell at the bar. By the end of the night, I allied with a fashion savvy Londoner and drove her back to her barrack in the Presidio.