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Speed Dating, or the return of Mithaly
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The worst thing about Speed Dating, is losing your pen. No really.

Ok, you readers might probably want some background :)

A bit after lunch, I was celebrating my first non trivial commit to the Guardian production environment, when I got a sms from a speed dating company asking me if I wanted to come to an event this evening. "Evening" as in "not time to go home, come straight from work!". Sometimes I get those very last minute invitations when there aren't enough men for the coming evening event. (The fact that there are more women registering for speed dating events in London than men is a long story for another time...). I usually just come and talk (mostly listen actually) and do not participate [1] to the card-based protocol that would result in details being exchanged for the actual follow up dating / sex.

Anyway, earlier this evening, somewhere between girl #2 and girl #8, I lost my pen. (Because, obviously, I am the kind of guy to play with my pen between my fingers when I talk to beautiful women...) This in itself would be tragic since we are talking about my second most expensive pen ever (and one of the most beautiful), but this comes few weeks after me { losing, misplacing } my most expensive pen ever.

Having now come back home, and checking my reserve, I am now down to five expensive pens. Two of them are historical pens; I can't even use them (it would be like walking around in the street with the actual original hand written version of the Declaration of Independence, you just don't do that; except in that one movie...). So I could only choose among three. If I well remember, their names are: Mithaly, Balveda and Bob. I took Mithaly. If I lose it, I will have lost the last remaining pen from my time at King's College. Let's hope that won't happen. Even though knowing myself, losing pens always eventually happen with probability 1.

[1] Ever since I started to go to those events to help (at opposition to want to meet somebody), I find it very liberating not to hand over my participation card (or an empty one) at the end of the night, and therefore never knowing which of those women would have wanted to see me again privately...

ps: I have just discovered that Mithaly is officially a Parker Sonnet Chiselled Chocolate fountain pen.

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