A WHILE back, Rick O'Shea, a DJ for 2FM, sent me a message via MySpace asking me to head along to his invention - 'Screen Dating' - where 30 singles compete for tickets to head along to a film screening in a private cinema and then proceed to a pub to get married, or something.

"This sounds like the type of thing I could humiliate myself at, " the practical angel on my shoulder decided. So I agreed to head along.

The producer, Joan, informed me that they would blow my cover from the offset, in case someone confided in me and I ran off and wrote about it. That - and the fact that I had to change everyone's names - was the only rule.

Screen Dating started almost by accident. On Rick's show one night, a girl texted in saying that she loves going to the movies, but she had broken up with her boyfriend and now has no one to go with.

"All of a sudden, there were loads of people texting in, " said Rick. "People were talking about going to the cinema on their own, and whether it's weird, and what the difference is for guys and girls and then one girl texted in saying she was going to the cinema on her own, met a guy in the queue who was going to the same movie as her, they went for a drink afterwards and six months on they're still going out." Then another listener texted in saying why didn't they have a screening for single guys and single girls, and the idea for Screen Dating was born.

The first event took place at the beginning of December with a screening of The Holiday. It was a massive success, and this time, they had to send out hundreds of apologies to people who had asked for tickets, but didn't make the cut. "I think people are into it because it's a level playing field, " Rick said.

"Everyone is in the same boat and we make sure everyone is in a similar age group and are just nice chatty people."

I've gone to speed dating for an article before, so I presumed that the atmosphere would be more or less the same; in other words, achingly awkward with people constantly glancing around the room to see if there was anyone better looking than the person they were stuck talking to, or who had just come in. It was a little less painful to begin with, which you can put down to the fun element of Rick's show being involved, and then there was the little issue of a free bar at the cinema.

I chatted to a couple of guys first; one in the aviation industry, the other in green energy. Before long, however, they had found more in common with each other than in me, so I moved on.

Katie was a bubbly blonde, attractive, young, funny, the kind of person who makes you think 'What are you doing here?' There were plenty of people like Katie at Screen Dating. For those who have never been to an occasion like this, or don't know anyone who has, there is a perception that the event is going to be made up of weirdos, age-liers, desperados. Maybe, in the past, but today, can you really blame someone who finds it impossible to date in this country?

And it is tough: no one knows their neighbours, workmates are a bad idea, all our friends are attached, and with a heavy workload, there's just no time to change a social circle or start a new hobby or interest in order to find a new pool of people? It's much more convenient to go along to an evening where you know everyone is single, even if most are too shy to broach the subject from the offset.

After perhaps a few too many drinks, we headed into the screening room where Dream Girls would be the flick. Most, including myself, thought it was awful, a completely deranged musical, and thank god it wasn't great because at this stage, with most popping in and out of the screening room for a top up, there was a veritable boozy feel to the evening.

Gradually, handfuls of people were staying outside at the bar, or further outside smoking and getting to know each other.

By the time the film was over and we headed across to the Gingerman pub, everybody was chatting to each other as if they were long lost friends.

Most of the girls bunched together, some of them regaling me quite forcefully and angrily with stories of exes, while the Irish male did himself no favour, messing around, buying too many drinks and not taking anything seriously. Before 11, a few had already headed home. Rick had been and gone, and talk was of Copper Face Jacks being on the cards.

As Norah Vincent wrote in Self-Made Man (where she disguised herself as a man for 18 months and dated, joined bowling leagues, that kind of thing) she was shocked to discover how defensive women were, how angry they were that they were single, and how this was the fault of the male.

They presumed all men were dodgy from the outset and not to be trusted. Most single women are damaged from previous relationships which they play over and over in their heads. Most men are too, but they seem to have hope that someone else better is out there, which reverses the traditional aspirational fantasy of the woman.

Rick offers his own opinion on the gender dynamic of such a venture: "The girls are all really cool people, but what they say is they hate the dating scene, they hate going to pubs, they hate the cattlemart element. What I saw the second night was that the guys had to get a few drinks in just to socially interact, but the girls were just happy to go there and just meet new people. There's definitely a split; we could do this [Screen Dating] with girls until kingdom come, but it's far harder to find guys, they seem far more reticent."

The next Screen Dating night will happen within a couple of months, when Rick and co settle into their new daytime slot. And if you want to head along, keep up to date with developments at www. rte. ie/2fm/rickoshea.