Dhaka — the city where the only thing that moves slower than traffic is the pace of romantic relationships. Where courtships are as convoluted as the alleyways of Old Dhaka and social cues are about as clear as the air in Mirpur on a weekday. In a place where traditional matchmakers (ahem, Seema Aunties) still reign supreme, the very notion of speed dating sounds like something out of a rom-com novel. So, naturally, when we hear about events like "Ditch Dating Apps and Keep it Real" popping up in the city, we have to ask: is Dhaka actually ready for speed dating?
With my metaphorical pen in hand and a dash of curiosity, I decided to go undercover at Dhaka's first major speed dating event. Walking in, I was immediately impressed by the thoughtful anonymity measures in place. No names, no workplaces — just a number, like a fancy prisoner in a rom-com Alcatraz. I became "Number Three" for the evening, and, frankly, I was relieved. This was privacy Dhaka-style: as rare as an empty rickshaw during rush hour.
The Art of Disguise and Anonymity
The thoughtful anonymity measures impressed me right from the start. No sharing of names, no exchanging job titles, and absolutely no social media handle-digging. Just me, "Number Three," surrounded by twenty other similarly numbered hopefuls. It was refreshing. "The only thing missing was a trench coat and a pair of sunglasses," I joked to the person next to me —Number 13, who quickly became one of the evening's most candid voices. "At least I don't have to worry about running into a creepy Tinder date," she quipped, and I couldn't help but agree.
Breaking the Ice
To ease us into what could've been the most socially awkward evening, the organisers had prepared a series of icebreaker games. "Is it a Green Flag or Red Flag?" was a particular favourite. Hands shot up around the room, waving red cards for "Is it okay to casually flirt even if you are in a relationship?" and green for "posting your relationship status on Facebook." For a city where we're used to hiding our true feelings behind vague smiles and convoluted excuses, it was oddly liberating to declare our relationship pet peeves openly.
As we warmed up, the conversations became easier. A game where we drew our worst dating experiences brought a collective groan and laughter from the group. One participant recalled how their date spent the entire time discussing stocks. "If I wanted to be this bored, I'd just listen to my boss," they lamented. This light-hearted banter broke down the remaining walls of tension.
Ten-Minute Conversations and Unexpected Connections
With the formalities over, it was time to get down to business — speed dating style. Seven rounds, ten minutes each, and a bell to signal when to switch. I sat down for my first date, and curiously asked, "So, how was your day?" It turns out the city's residents are nothing if not talkers. By the second round, I was laughing over a shared joke about Pathao drivers' uncanny ability to find every pothole in the city except the pickup location. By the fourth, I found myself genuinely enjoying the conversations.
Number Four, a charming participant with a knack for storytelling, summed it up best: "It's nice to meet people outside of the usual social circles. My colleagues only ever talk about KPI targets." I nodded in agreement — sometimes, it's refreshing to meet people whose lives aren't intertwined by office memos or gossips.
And then there was Number 23 — a highlight of the evening. We bonded over a shared laugh about a previous speed date where the person spent all ten minutes explaining obscure medical terms. "I know more about kidney functions than I ever wanted to," Number 23 joked, and in that moment, I felt a genuine connection. The whole point of this event, after all, was to keep things real. No filters, no curated profiles, just raw, unpolished conversations. And it worked.
The Seema Aunty Effect and the Social Media Conundrum
Let's be real: if you're in Dhaka and unmarried, your romantic status is practically a family affair. Enter the legendary matchmaker "aunties" who can sniff out a potential match faster than you can swipe right. These matriarchal masterminds have ruled the matchmaking game for generations, organising "accidental" encounters at family gatherings and scheduling "shomporko" meetings disguised as casual dinners.
So, how would Seema Aunty react to speed dating? Probably with a mixture of horror and curiosity. "Ten minutes? What can you even learn in that time?" she'd scoff, before assuring you that you'd be much better off meeting Rafiq Uncle's eldest son, who just got a job in Canada. But if speed dating really catches on in Dhaka, aunties across the city may have to adapt or find themselves outpaced by this new wave of dating innovation.
Social media, however, remains a double-edged sword. Attendees were strictly prohibited from taking photos — a rule I appreciated as much as I feared. In a city where even a hint of a "date" can send shockwaves through friend circles, discretion is key. "Imagine the memes if this gets out," one participant whispered, glancing around nervously. I nodded knowingly; Dhaka's grapevine has a way of turning whispers into full-blown scandals.
Safety First: A Reassuring Touch
Yes, The Attention Network's closed-door event thoughtfully included bouncers and a "red card" system, allowing participants to bow out if a conversation gets uncomfortable. Because even speed dating comes with its own set of hazards.
Reflecting on a New Era of Connection
So, is Dhaka ready for speed dating? For a city that prides itself on being both fiercely traditional and secretly modern, maybe the answer is yes. Number 13 put it best: "It's not just about finding love; sometimes it's about meeting someone who doesn't think your jokes are terrible or someone who could add to or change my perspective." For me, this experience was a reminder that people in Dhaka are naturally warm and friendly, but technology and cultural norms have made in-person conversations a bit of a lost art. Speed dating brought some of that art back, even if only for an evening.
As I left the event, still "Number Three" to most, I couldn't help but feel hopeful. Sure, Dhaka's dating scene is messy, awkward, and sometimes downright exhausting — but perhaps that's what makes it so memorable. If you're tired of swiping, scrolling, and ghosting, maybe it's time to take a chance on something new. Who knows? The perfect conversation might just be one bell ring away. And if not, at least you'll have a story to tell the next time Seema Aunty comes calling.
Photo: Courtesy
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