It's a surprisingly lively and diverse group of men playing this tarted-up version of musical chairs in the party room of Ristorante Dinotto. And while most of us are having a noticeably difficult time keeping our eyes off the unbelievably attractive waitstaff, we're here tonight because we're tired of empty flirtation games, of meeting the same men in the same smoky bars, of spending another cold Sunday afternoon alone.

The amount of information you can import from a complete stranger in three-minute shifts varies by person, but there is one universal trait we all share, and no, it's not that we're all pathetic and dateless. Huddle up and pay attention, everyone: The one universal trait shared by participants in speed-dating services like this one is that we're single, yes, but we're also powered by a steady self-assurance that somewhere out there exists a guy (or girl) meant for each one of us—our lobster, to quote "Friends'" Phoebe Buffay. Surrounded by that kind of determination and confidence is like undergoing some kind of relationship chemotherapy. It charges your batteries and gives you hope.

That being said, I didn't find Mr. Right that evening, or even Mr. Right Now, for that matter. There was a man so cheerful and resilient, it didn't occur to him to be embarrassed about his favorite pastime—singing karaoke, specifically Barry Manilow's "Mandy," at any number of Boystown watering holes. A guy convinced that I am Italian even as I patiently tell him I'm adopted and have no clue about my heritage. A man who cups his left ear and asks me to repeat everything I say, presumably because he is going deaf. A guy whose naked, ready-and-willing rear-end is clearly visible on his AOL chat profile, and a guy who informs me that if "this doesn't work out" he's getting back together with his boyfriend.

Still, I had a really good time in spite of myself. It forced me to flex my communication muscles, to engage in a little one-on-one with what—for me, at least—can be the most intimidating creature on the planet: another gay man.

Oh, and that personal motto? I'm still working on it, but I'm hoping it'll be something as courageous—and endearing—as admitting a fondness for Barry Manilow tunes.

Also by Tony Peregrin

NONFICTION REVIEW
The paradoxical premise behind Suzanna Danuta Walters latest survey of pop culture, "All the Rage," is smartly tethered to the book's three-word title.
(2001-11-29)

BUYING POWER
That bright orange door, which for months taunted passers-by eager for a glimpse inside the MTV-manufactured lives of "The Real World" Chicago cast, finally swings open Sunday, as 1,200 individuals, dressed in their Banana Republic, casual-best, sign contracts (no photos allowed) and wait patiently for their turn to pick over—and, if they are so moved—purchase the sheets, vases, sofas, lamps, rugs (basically anything that can be carried out) of the Wicker Park loft.
(2001-11-22)

FICTION REVIEW
An evil pond that uses its vine-covered tentacles to kill; a battle between two neighbors where one decides to use the other as a scarecrow in his cornfield; and an entire set of stories featuring lethal, vengeful animals are just some of the messy, imperfect offerings knotted up in this short-story tangle by Patricia Highsmith, author of such macabre masterpieces as "Strangers on a Train" and "The Talented Mr. Ripley."
(2001-10-11)

LESSONS LEARNED
"Straight Pride" doesn't negate "Gay Pride." In fact, as far as I can tell, both statements mean everyone is getting off in whatever way feels the best—and darned proud of it too, thank you very much.
(2001-06-21)

FACE OFF
(2001-05-31)

OH RIKKI
(2001-03-29)

LAVENDER HAZE
(2001-03-01)

GREAT SEXPECTATIONS
(2001-02-15)

COLD COMFORT
(2001-01-18)

BROTHER'S KEEPER
(2000-12-14)

GOLDEN NUGGET
(2000-12-07)

BLOODLETTING
(2000-10-19)