Lock it in, Eddie

yale
Originally uploaded by batintherain.

On Friday night I allowed myself to be convinced to attend a party with Biggsy that was pitched at singletons across Chicago. It was called a "Lock and Key" party, and if you're thinking it sounds rather cheesy, you're not alone. The fact that Biggsy scored me a free ticket meant that Gab The Capitalist trumped Gab The Chicken, and off I went.

The princple of the party was that the women wear a padlock around their neck, and each man who goes along gets given a set of keys. His attempt to "open the woman's lock" (literally, though probably metaphorically too now that I think about it) was the definitive icebreaker.

But the night was not so bad. It was held at a cute little club by Wrigley Field called "Tryst" and I'd been there before, but not under these circumstances.

My Dad must have had something to do with the night, because not one set of keys opened my lock. Other girls around me, were unlocked by anything up to four different men. But not me. And not that it mattered either, because I was quite the success story in terms of collecting phone numbers and business cards on the night.

I met a guy who owns his own cosmetics export company, several accountants, and an entrepreneur who runs an escort agency. Quite the mix.

But after the main part of the party was over, the single women stayed on to dance together and the single men drifted off into the night. A night of unsuccessful hook-ups had bonded the women and fractured the men. I have had a call back from the escort agency manager, but purely for him to tell me I was attractive; it fortunately wasn't a recruitment call.

But my Friday night adventure was fun, and ended in the same way that my one "Desperate and Dateless" swansong back in Adelaide finished up, as I recall. Kate, Jems, Alix and I were barefoot and dancing like banshees to the fabulous band. And then I hooked up with the drummer. Naturally. Sorry Dad, you must have missed that one.