Columnist John Katsilometes: These dates are on the clock

Monday, March 20, 2000 | 9:32 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun assistant features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@vegas.com or 259-2327.

It's date night and the man of the hour struggles to smile -- and speak -- through numbing pain.

"I've had three wisdom teeth pulled," Rabbi Yitzchak Wyne, leader of the Young Israel Aish HaTorah Synagogue of Las Vegas, says through tightened jaws. "I thought I'd be recovered by now. I hope I can make it through the night."

It's an ailment not out of place on this night, as 30 or so single professional types of Jewish faith take part in a tradition likened to pulling teeth:

Finding a mate.

As part of his popular outreach program with the yuk-yuk title "Wyne and Cheese Presents," Wyne has organized "Speed Dating," a madcap way for singles (in this case, Jewish singles) to mix 'n' match in a setting that is equal parts conveyor belt and social club.

That's fine with the participants. The first "Speed Dating" night resulted in a whopping 30 dates, making Wyne the Chuck Woolery of his synagogue.

"Our focus, mainly, is for young professionals to get together and have discussions in a comfortable atmosphere," Wyne says, "and so far, so good."

The regular socials sessions -- conducted every other Thursday night at the Aish HaTorah synagogue on West Sahara -- are ideal for any single member of the Jewish faith seeking a partner of like morals and principles.

The 34-year-old Wyne merely plants the seed.

"We believe that dating should be the first step toward marriage, not just a way to pass time," Wyne says. "It has to be part of a building process, but the problem is a lot of people don't know how to date. This jump-starts the process."

Here's how "Speed Dating" works: The assorted singles embark on seven different dates lasting eight minutes apiece (as Wyne makes that announcement, one anxious single male calls out, "That's longer than my usual dates!")

But the "date" isn't quite a date in the traditional sense. No time for dinner/movie/dancing/nightcap at my pad/sweeping slap in the face. Rather, it's a fairly structured practice that does allow room to improvise.

The participants start out by sitting across from each other at a folding table, awaiting a suggested topic of discussion to kick off the proceedings. Synagogue President Peter Dubowsky, a Las Vegas attorney and frustrated standup comic, shouts out the first question: "How many children would you like to have and why? Ready, set, date!"

The cautious murmuring in the room reveals that not everyone is comfortable with the topic. Conversations swiftly stray in all directions. One woman is heard relating, "You know, Colorado is a really beautiful place," while another boasts, "I had back-stage passes to Queensryche."

"They are given suggested questions and topics," says Wyne, who hands out copies of more than two dozen questions to participants beforehand. "But often it's up to them where to take the conversation. All we want is it to have meaning and substance."

And if any group inspires meaning and substance, it is Queensryche.

The dating sessions are tightly regimented. At the eight-minute mark Dubowsky shouts, "Time! Put down your dating skills and step away from the table!"

The room then takes on the feel of a cakewalk, as men shift places and sit down to chat with another "date." Even from across the room it's easy to tell when a date is soaring or crashing. Some couples are giggling, an encouraging sign, while others sit in silence, drumming their fingers until Dubowsky mercifully ends the agony.

This continues until every possible couple has dated. The singles then fill out questionnaires for each date, listing the person's name and answering the questions "Would I like to date this person (for real)?" and "Was this person polite and respectful?" Wyne reviews all the forms and if a couple answer positively, he calls each to make the "love connection."

Singles from both sides of the table say the process is fun but trying.

"It's weird, of course," 40-year-old David Goldsmith says. "You're on the spot in a factory kind of process. But the weakness is the strength in that you don't know what the next date will entail. It's not so much the conversation, or what you're saying, but the vibe you get off another person that you can only get when you talk face to face."

Says 44-year-old Sheryl Dretler: "It's tiring. I'm not really great at being fired question after question. But it's all very nice because you can meet quality people. There are probably a couple of men I would go out with as friends because friendship is important to me."

The group chats for a while before slowly dispersing. But off in a side room, standing near the refreshment table, a woman is spied handing a slip of paper to a smiling man.

Phone number.