The bar is open and the DJ is in position behind her turntables.
When Gosse steps up to the mike, the men silence their playoff predictions. Some hands go down and one bitter female voice yells out, “Are there any men here?
None seems nonchalant about the mission of the evening. Young lovers were asked to dance or went home crying, only to wake in the morning with a different beloved in mind.
The juvenile separation of genders notwithstanding, this gathering bears a distinct difference from the middle-school mixers of old. Feelings, and the torrid but temporary bonds that followed, just “happened.” A singles convention, however, is about planning and focus.
They sip cocktails, swap odds on game six of the Kings-Lakers showdown currently in progress and generally ignore the women in the room.
The women, on the other hand, sit upright in rows of chairs on the dance floor and expectantly face an unattended mike stand.
You are competing with their fantasy partner.” His list of taboo revelations includes any previous relationship infidelities and being in recovery for drug addiction. ” Gosse smoothly replies, “After you hear those magic words, ‘I love you.’ Once a person is in love with you, they’re addicted to you like a smoker to nicotine, like a heroin addict to smack. Gosse wraps up the lecture and turns the night over to the DJ.