Bare Branches
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I had stalked the marriage market. I had studied with pick up artists. But I was still alone when Singles Day or “bare branch festival” came around on November 11. Originally a celebration of singlehood （or， alternatively， an end to it） chosen for the four number ones of the date， 11/11， Singles Day has now been all but commandeered by online retailers. However， there are also a smattering of dating events held on the day. Speed dating is increasingly popular in China， and I figured there was no harm in going along for a look.
The Happiness Singles Culture Member’s Club（“The Home of Single Friends”） is a club in central Beijing， with annual membership fees from 3000 to 10，000 yuan. It holds events every weekend， and I found their Singles Day speed dating extravaganza online. Gentlemen must be over 24， ladies over 22. Everyone must bring their photo ID or passport.
100 yuan （US$16） got me past the front desk， into an open space with plush booths for strangers to sit and talk. In the next room were a couple of pool tables， a row of swinging double seats garnished with cuddly bears， and an open floor space with a podium and piano. There was no bar， only bottled water for two yuan （US$0.32） behind the registration desk. This was not a place to relax with a drink. This was a place to find your future spouse.
The night kicked off at 7：30 PM sharp， with a game called “five hundred seconds.” Sixteen ladies sat down in a circle of high bar stools， arranged facing out. Sixteen gentleman stood in an outer ring facing in C one of them， yours truly， the only foreigner there. We walked around the ladies in a clockwise circle， like embarrassed lions scoping out prey that was avoiding eye contact. The host asked questions， and whoever answered first got to choose where to stop so every man could have an eightminute conversation （five hundred seconds…） with the lady he was facing.
The problem was that the first two gents to answer questions correctly were too shy to decide who they wanted to talk to， and looped the circle in endless timidity until the host had to cut in and stop us all. Each time， the same eight-minute conversation ensued， characterized by the mutual plumbing of information to determine compatibility （age， background， job） and ending with the exchanging of details （or not） on pieces of card.
After a few rounds， we moved onto the next game. Guys and gals alike stood in a big circle， holding hands. We were told to pass a count along the circle， but to say “pass” for every number which included， or was a multiple of， seven. 12， 13， pass， 15， 16， pass， 18， 19， 20， pass. It’s a game I played at school， so I didn’t embarrass myself. If you slipped up， you had to go into the middle of the circle and introduce yourself， then field a question.