You heard me right. That’s speed dating. Not speed skating.

I’m in Amsterdam, where I spoke about confidence in the capital markets at a seminar hosted by NRC Focus. Over the last few days, there have also been plenty of interviews for the Dutch language version of Top Producer. My book is called Goud Geld out here. And for the record, the Gs are pronounced like the Hs of somebody in need of a Heimlich.

Bottom line: You get the best of all worlds in Amsterdam. There’s adventure because the language sounds exotic. There’s comfort because the people are friendly, and everybody speaks English. And there are bicycles everywhere. The Netherlands, a nation of 17 million people, has more bicycles than any other country in the world except for China which has a population of 1.3 billion. Personally, I’d love to live here, ride bicycles, and learn the language.

Which leads me to my story about speed dating.

Last night, NRC Focus hosted a cocktail party for conference participants and the speakers. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres—you know the drill. A pretty young woman, earnest and bright eyed and in her twenties, came up to me and announced, “I’m a speed dater.” I swear she was standing on her tip toes.

Next month, I turn fifty two and all I could think was, Yikes.

Holding up my left hand, wedding band displayed prominently, I said, “Thanks, but I’m probably not in your target market.” It was a business conference after all.

My speed-dating friend didn’t look disappointed. She didn’t look hurt. She looked…well…perplexed. I soon learned her role was to broker introductions among people with similar interests. That way nobody stands around with a drink in hand and the crushing realization they don’t know anybody at the party.

The speed dater asked about my interests, listened carefully, and introduced me to a group of people working with a Dutch insurance company. I had a blast. Speed dating alla Amsterdam—now there’s a great idea I hope comes to the USA.

Norb Vonnegut