Speed dating is a growing phenomenon after the system was dreamt up by a New York rabbi: the usual method is that about two dozen men and women have just three minutes to impress each other before being moved on to the next table.

Most people can tell in a short time whether their date is going to make it to Round 2 or end up in the ever-growing pile of don't-call-me-I'll-call-you. With that in mind, it seems silly to devote an entire evening to one person when you could just as easily date 10 people in the same amount of time.

Of course, if you actually dated 10 people in one evening you might pass out from exhaustion and would certainly wind up with an unflattering nickname if your scheme were ever discovered. Enter speed dating, which requires almost no training except for the ability to stand up, sit down and move a seat to your right every time you hear a bell.

The premise of speed dating is to bring together a group of men and women who will each spend three minutes together to see whether they hit it off. Each person involved carries something resembling a scorecard, which at some point during the "date" they mark to indicate whether they would like to see the person again or not.

Scenario: Your latest blind date is another bust. There you are, slumped over a table at Tony Roma's, slogging through banal conversation with a nerdy mensch until you can escape.

You're stuck. So is the conversation. With glazed eyes, you ask about his favorite color and wonder if you'll end up alone like Aunt Pat, living with too many cats, cutting coupons and kvetching about the weather.

Solution? If you're Jewish and dating in Southern California, you may want to try "speed dating," an innovative strategy for the weary lovelorn sponsored by Aish HaTorah, a synagogue and international Jewish outreach network