A match made ... in a hotel bar, with Daithí Ó Sé’s help
IN the early hours of my best friend’s wedding, after copious amounts of alcohol, a beautifully presented woman in her 40s cornered me, dropped her voice and warned: “Don’t leave it too late.” She wasn’t talking about the evening, she was talking about dating and marriage.
True to character, I was late arriving on stage for the West Cork Hotel’s ‘blind date’ last weekend.
Staff had planned the charity bash to coincide with the launch of a matchmaking service in the hotel’s snug.
Stashed away in a hotel room watching X-Factor, hopping about with nerves, I was fidgeting and fixing my hair, while, downstairs, the female contestants were taking a grilling.
Former Cork footballer Diarmuid Duggan, a 32-year-old teacher from Lisheen, had his pick of the four lovelies. “What would you bring with you to a desert island?” he asked of a skydiving creche leader, an electrical engineer, a student and a professional-wrestling fan.
Coaxed along by the enigmatic draw that is Daithí Ó Sé, contestant Caroline Looney (31) said she would not depart without a bottle of gin, her ipod and sunscreen.
What would she do when the gin was gone, Daithi inquired? “I’d suffer the hangover,” she said.
Her droll wit sparked Diarmuid’s interest, but his mouth hit the floor when he saw her for the first time: the pair were childhood friends.
In a candid postmortem of events two days later, co-host and matchmaker Mag Donovan said they “had the same air about them. They are neighbours from home, they could go all the way if they want to, they are both professionals with a great interest in sport.”
The ‘blind date’ was an interesting experiment for Mag, who is giving up her day job to concentrate on matchmaking. Her client list includes a mix ranging in age from 25 to 71.
In reality, says Mag, the perfect match will differ to the idea you have.
Fundamentally, if you’re on the hunt for love you need “a bloody good relationship with yourself.’
“I got married at 22, a lot of couples get married very young. You don’t actually know yourself at that age. People really need to look at themselves and decide what they truly want,” she said.
Hindsight is a great thing, but her words ring true. On the sprint round to the back of the stage (in heels) two nights earlier, it had struck me.
Consumed by trying to climb (with knocking knees) onto a high stool, I had thought, ‘if Daithi asked me to define my ideal man, I wouldn’t have a clue’.
Behind the curtain, disembodied voices known only as numbers offered some off-the-wall answers to my questions.
‘What would you do with three wishes’?
School teacher ‘number one’ wished he could understand why women say no when they mean yes (its all in the tone).
Rally mad ‘number two’ wished he could round up his mates for a massive rave in Ibiza. Pig farming ‘number three’ wanted to end the recession and gave a rousing ‘Flight of the Earls’ rendition.
Hilarious ‘number four’ — whose ideal woman comprised ‘head, hands, legs and everything in between’ clinched ‘comment of the night’ with his quip for a ‘song that most sums you up.’
“Meatloaf, because when the bill comes after dinner, I’ll be out of there like a Bat Out of Hell,” he said.
The audience were in ribbons, but I was a wreck. They all sounded mental to me. A stab in the dark on ‘number one’ revealed a strapping, giant of a man who was cocky but cute to boot. Downing champers in the bar, we mapped out a mock wedding and five or six kids, but ne’er a date was secured.
In post-game analysis, Mag said she was stunned by my choice. “I didn’t think he was your match. You’d have had great conversation with ‘number three’ and the laugh of your life with ‘number four’.”
Working off intuition, Mag gets to know her clients, but pulls no punches when it comes to practicalities. She’ll happily tell a west Cork farmer to smarten up, or where to go if he comes looking for a slave in the kitchen.
“You’d have no problem with a lad working all day in his overalls, but he needs to look sharp for a date, that’s what a girl wants. I don’t see myself as a dating agent, I see myself as the old-fashioned matchmaker. I see the person first, then see what they want,” she said.
There’s something about the hotel snug, a little bit of magic in the walls perhaps, where matches were made through the years.
The tradition lapsed, leading to a surge in online dating, which Mag thinks can cause feelings of failure if a series of dates don’t go well.
“Loneliness is huge, in every age group. You have working women who are fine during the week, but want something to look forward to at weekends.
“Men are the same. They don’t know where to go, pubs and clubs can be daunting,” she said.
So what is it that everyone’s looking for? “The simple things. Someone to walk the dog with, share a pot of tea or a game of cards. That’s where the beauty lies, ’tis all in the chroi,” she said, smiling.
* Contact Mag Donovan’s matchmaking service D2 (D Squared) on www.d2peoplenetwork.com or in the snug at the West Cork Hotel.
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