›› Sometimes I have a dream. In it, I’m taking a final exam for a class I never went to. The questions don’t make sense. Are they in Latin? I’m expecting to fail.

Failure is what I’m thinking about as I enter the dimly lit bar at Jazz@Jacks in Denver to go on my first speed-dating adventure. I’m not expecting to come out of this meeting the man who will give me his name someday.

I wonder what type of man or woman would pay $35 to go on eight, eight-minute blind dates on a Sunday evening. Besides me — but I’m doing it in the name of journalism.

Blood courses through my veins like I’m preparing for the Olympic trials. I’m armed with a glass of chardonnay and hundreds of conversation topics in my head. For me, silence is the enemy.

Tables set for two are adorned with battery-operated votive candles, as if the spark between dates is doomed already. A table number is assigned for each date, and the plan is to find your table after each eight-minute cycle.

The women look like they sought advice from friends, like I did, on what to wear before the event. Many paired heels with jeans or jewelry with collared or silk shirts to dress their outfits up a bit, but no one looks like they’re going to prom.

I’m set up with eight men ranging from their mid-20s to those who look older than my dad.

First is Edward, a blonde, bearded Boulder native who’s about my age. He’s not an alien and doesn’t drool. This is a good start. Edward studies at Regis University but still hasn’t figured out the whole career thing yet. He does improv comedy on the side because he vowed to himself that this would be a year of trying new things. I’m candid when talking about where I grew up, where I work and what my interests are — movies, music, writing, food, reading, figure skating and volunteering. Feeling like an undercover spy, I leave out the part that I’m speed-dating for a story.

Buzz. Time’s up. That wasn’t so bad.

During the course of the night, I notice that the people here don’t seem any different than the people I’d meet at a bar, a game, a party or a wedding. The only difference is that we have to pay to exchange autobiographies in what seems like an 8-minute ping-pong match.

There are men I’d gladly welcome into my social circle. Like Jorge, a South American architect who designs restaurants in the Highlands and enjoys dancing. And Darren, an amateur soccer player who fixes water damage in houses and loves it. And Richard, too, a sushi-lover and self-proclaimed geek who builds robots to spy on his pets when he’s out of town.

Then there are the outliers. Spar is a retired attorney who is decades too old for me to date. It seems, at least I hope, that we both realize that instantly. Four minutes into our mini-date, the conversation evaporates and we find that our only common denominator is our love for golden retrievers.

There’s also, inevitably, the guy who looks like a younger, shorter and lankier version of Steve Carell in the “40-Year-Old Virgin.” He’s jittery, like four Red Bulls jittery, and he talks mostly about how he wishes he were better at hiking. How can you get better at hiking? Isn’t it just walking?

The evening ended with Nick, an extroverted, hilarious career counselor from Korea. He’s a regular speed-dater, but he does it more for social entertainment than for seriously finding his next great love. He shows me nearly undecipherable text messages from a girl he once met at an event like this. She’s a chronic ellipses abuser who won’t leave him alone. I tell him I’ve seen cats that can better master spelling and grammar.

Some psychologist somewhere someday might tell me my dream of taking a test I’m not prepared for is a metaphor for a fear of the unknown.

For singles, fear of the unknown is sometimes worse than finding the courage to join a dating website or attend a singles mixer.

I didn’t meet Mr. Right that night. I didn’t exchange phone numbers, email or even Twitter handles with anyone. But I also didn’t leave feeling like I failed at some cosmic test of relationship fate. People you meet in any social situation are like wild cards in an Uno game. The randomness of it all is what should be embraced.

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Speed-dating events:

8 minute dating: 8minutedating.com

Speed Denver Dating: speeddenverdating.com

Date & Dash: dateanddash.com

Denver Catholic Speed Dating: denvercatholicspeeddate.com

Great Expectations: greatexpectationsdenver.com