Jerry Ross on Dating...
'Single in Glasgow' doesn't have quite the same cachet as 'Sleepless in Seattle' but, as GO! discovers, there's no need to be alone on a Saturday night in Scotland's biggest metropolis. Jerry Ross takes a temporary membership of the Raeburn Supper Club and joins some members at Cha Restaurant for fine food, fraternity and fun.
There's arguably nothing so depressing for a single person than to be alone, at home on a Saturday night. There's only so much that a bottle of wine and a stretch on the settee can do for the spirit, and what can be done is usually undone by the realisation that you haven't won the lottery (again!) and that TV's 'Casualty' is about to begin, bringing even more doom and gloom in the name of entertainment.
Once you've hit this stage there's nothing (save, perhaps another bottle of vino) that's going to save you from yourself. But it didn't have to be this way; it could all have been so different! The Raeburn Supper Club was started in 1997 by Yvonne and Diane, who saw a need to get Glasgow's singles off their couches and out for some company. Their formula is simple, but effective; for a reasonable fee, prospective Supper Club members apply for membership, are interviewed and given membership of the group, numbering some 200. Then a bewildering array of activities ranging from the sociable to the pseudosporty (hey, ten-pin bowling isn't exactly freefall sky-diving is it?) are opened up to the new member.
However, as the club's name suggests, its organisers have a weakness for fine food and the mainstays of the organisation are their supper nights at Glasgow's more noteworthy restaurants. And you can see why: there's nothing quite so relaxing and enjoyable as fine food and wine in good company, and nothing so conducive to friendly, good conversation as throwing a bunch of people from all walks of life together (in 50:50 men : women proportions, naturally) around a table and inviting them to get on with it.
Mind you, the Supper Club's members already know this, and warm friendships seem to already be the order of the day between many of the regulars, who go out of their way to make newcomers feel welcome. As we approach the Millennium, singles are becoming more confident about taking control of their lives and there's a greater move towards getting off the great couch of singledom and doing something positive to make new friends and broaden one's horizons. A quick look at the 'Two's Company' sections of Scotland's broadsheet newspapers attests to this, though there's much about one-on-one dating that must put many people off it.
SAFETY
Firstly such arrangements involve, in essence, dealing with strangers which can be daunting, particularly in the full-on environment of what amounts to a telephone-led blind date. No matter what that interesting bloke or lass tells you about him or herself on the phone, you've no guarantee that their assessment of their social skills, genuineness and hair-cover are going to match your own, and there's the ever-present issue (particularly for women) of personal safety.
CURIOUS
The Raeburn Supper Club offers a way around these potential man (and woman-) traps. New clients can arrive for their first meal (or night at the opera, or whatever) secure in the knowledge that Diane and Yvonne have already interviewed your companions, found them to be reasonable, nice, normal specimens and have granted them membership. And there's no full-on exposure, either. Supper Club outings are likely to have about a dozen (and upwards) members there to enjoy the same things as you. Our charming and personable hostesses are there to make conversation and make introductions over pre-dinner drinks (though, it must be said, they struggled to get a word in edgeways with the chatty lot I had the pleasure of meeting). And personal safety as an issue, in the company of so many, simply evaporates.
Yvonne is keen to make the point that the primary purpose of the Supper Club is to act as a conduit to making new friendships: 'We're not a dating agency by any yardstick,' she told Go!, 'and nor do we ever want to be seen as such. The Supper Club is, in essence, a bunch of like-minded people who meet up to converse, enjoy themselves and meet new people which their lifestyles or jobs wouldn't otherwise introduce them to.'
It's a philosophy that seems to work. Arriving at the splendid Cha in Miller Street and enjoying a (stiff) presupper gin, even I had to admit to feeling just a wee bit nervous at the prospect of meeting so many people at once. Especially since Diane had insisted that her clients had to know that there was a journalist in their midst, so there was no prospect of 'doing a Roger Cook' on them. But there was no need for worry. Introductions were followed immediately by a round of handshakes, a good deal of friendly banter, a bit of gentle Glaswegian legpulling and a discussion about of ail things the everincreasing popularity of Drum 'n' Bass music. Other topics which came up included Robbie Wlilliams' sex-life, good places to hang out and eat and drink in Glasgow, why women adore chocolate so much (it's a hormonal thing, apparently!), the musical genius of Tom Waits, John Martyn and a host of others, why mobile phones are such a curse in restaurants (er, mine rang. Sorry!) and more funny, curious and downright hysterical anecdotes about everything from T in the Park to the way that Bob Maxwell used to be portrayed in 'Private Eye' magazine than you could shake an exceedingly shakeable stick at!
The one thing - if there is a single strand - that connects the Supper Club's members is not so much that they're slngle, it's that they're normal. This is no formal gathering and there wasn't a gent's me to be seen anywhere. Casual and comfortable is the order of the day, and there's not the slightest hint of pretentiousness. If the gathering had been held in Edinburgh then I'm less certain that it would have been such a front-free zone, so maybe It's true what they say about Glasgow people. Not that thus was any weedgie conclave, however; there were more than a few accents, belying the fact chat many members are people who have moved to Glasgow for one reason or another and are in the process of settling in and making new social links.
REFRESHING
The youngest member of the Supper Club is twenty four, the oldest well, much older. But the average age of the cheerful diners that made my Saturday night vanish rather swiftly couldn't have been much more than thirty. Perhaps this isn't such a surprise, on reflection; hitting thirty is a curious time of life where many people who have spent years studying, or building and consolidating them careers (or both) suddenly look up from them books and realise that the majority of them friends have become attached, to some degree or another, to others. As much as we humans try, an evening spent as a single with a bunch of loved-up couples still isn't a perfect night, and it was a refreshing change to chill out with some humorous, thinking similars.
The order of the day (or evening) with the Supper Club plainly depends on what you choose to do, but you can rely on the mix being good. Around my table were a media worker, an antiques dealer, a surveyor and close by were others including a young doctor who, given a rare night off by the caring NHS, fielded several workconnected mobile phone intrusions before switching the phone off, being the veritable life and soul of the party then promptly falling asleep after dessert! And the attitude of the good people of the Supper Club shone through; the poor, exhausted guy was left to sleep for the best part of an hour by the simultaneously amused and sympathetic members before being gently woken, fed coffee and led out to a pub afterwards for a refreshing revitaliser. Or a drink, I can't remember which!
EXPECTATIONS
There are so many frames of reference amongst even a small table of diners that it's well-nigh impossible not to find some conversational common ground with fellow diners. And the timbre of chat is enlightening. You may find yourself swing with a doctor or a lawyer, just as you may find yourself sitting with an administrator, a civil servant or, for that matter, even a journalist. But the expectation which I had that everybody would be so keen to show themselves up in the best possible light by boringly monopolising conversations, telling tales of their own worth couldn't have been wider of the mark.
Diners do talk about their work, of course, but anecdotes are inevitable amusing, entertaining, informative or selfdepracating. You shouldn't be surprised to hear conversations that begin: 'You think that was a bad experience? Let me tell you about a time I really screwed this job up and nor should you be afraid to laugh I formed the impression that there no guards up here to be let down, and nor are there any suits of armour on the participants, either. Relaxed? You betcha! There's no compelling reason I could find that would allow a prospective client to find a way of talking themselves out of joining.
BUSY
It's true that nobody comes to the Supper Club's table without their own unique personal history. There have been boyfriends, girlfriends, a marriage or two and perhaps even some kids here or there. And sometimes life's events can leave even busy and otherwise fulfilled singles that bit less confident about meeting and greeting new friends than they might have been when they were twenty. And perhaps that's why the suits of armour are left at home by this lot; everybody here was a new member once, and they'd not have kept coming back if they hadn't felt welcome and enjoyed themselves.
DAUNTING
In fact, it would take considerable effort to retain an 'I'm new here' attitude for much longer than it would take to quaff your first drink and say hello. This is no 'boys on one side of the room and girls on the other' set-up and even the body language of the members demonstrates that everyone's at home here. So far as the minutiae of the Supper Club's concerned, the majority enjoyed a glass or three of wine with a beautiful dinner, nobody even considered looking cool by avoiding the dessertsto-die-for and, afterwards, there were a healthy number who were keen to divert to the nearest hostelry in order to continue the fun over further 'refreshments.' As would be expected, the company really warmed up as the wine went down but, even utterly sober, it was still a cheerful, easy ride. You can - without doubt - forget having that glass of wine before you leave the house to go suppering for the first time. You really won't need it. I promise.
'Tonight's my first time dining with the Supper Club,' Mark, an office worker, told me in a taxi which sped us from Cha to the somewhat different environs of O'Neill's lrish bar, 'and - although I was a bit nervous to begin with - I'm having a good time. I was relieved to find that everybody was just normal and friendly. I won't have any second thoughts about coming back again, that's for sure. It's been a real change. and a lot of fun.'
According to Diane, reactions like Mark's are typical: 'Of course it's a slightly daunting thing for many people to come and meet a bunch of strangers for dinner, but Yvonne and I will both have met them at least once before, so it's not as if there's nobody here that they know. Everybody makes a special effort to ensure that new faces are taken care of and made to feel welcome, and it's virtually unknown for anybody to come and jam us once then not be seen again.'
CUPID
And what of those Supper Club friends who happen to develop something a bit special between each other? 'Well, that's not primarily what we're about,' Laughed Diane, 'the whole point is to enjoy the friendship and make new friends. If something romantic happens then that's nice, but don't expect to see Yvonne and I running around like Cupids, shooting arrows into people's soup and so on we don't do that!'
It's reassuring to know that there's no heavy-duty matchmaking going on here and the natural, unpressured vibe probably does more to help frendship thrive than anything else. But I was curious to discover whether a couple who pair up through meeting at the Supper Club have to relinquish their memberships, even temporarily? 'Of course not,' laughs Yvonne, 'it's a sacral thing here, not a dating agency, so we're delighted to see our members whether or not a couple of them might be seeing each other outside the Supper Club. It's all about socialising that's what we do best, a bit of a chuckle with some interesting and genuine people and our growing membership is testimony to this.
Perhaps the greatest single advantage that the Supper Club has over other, more traditional, ways of meeting new people is that its locally-based. There's arguably little point in joining one of the national 'dating services' only to find that your perfect computer match lives in Hereford, not Hyndland and you never know who or what you are dealing with when you look at classified sections and personal columns in the press. These can at worst Introduce some pervert unto your life or at best lead to a reasonable result all be it after a great deal of trial and errot. After all, people are busier than they've ever been, and finding the time to go on love-safaris up and down the country isn't easy, nor cheap But, when you can be guaranteed that your new friends are going to be at least reasonably available for a chat, a pint or a quick lunch outside of the organised events then you 're onto something that has a far greater chance of offering success in finding friendship.
WEDDING BELLS?
Yes, singles are coming out of the closet, (not before time, too) and they're reclaiming their rights to fun and friendship. They're finding the time to make new acquaintances and, inevitably, there wilt be many a laugh on the road to (for some, at least) a deeper happiness still. But the big question, for many, is: have Diane and Yvonne had to look their white hats out yet? As thmgs stand right now, the answer is 'no'. But the Supper Club's still in its infancy so far as the timescale of human relationships tends to run, though - if I were them - I'd keep my wedding outfit dry-cleaned and well-pressed!