This is what it is like. The trendy club stands before you, it's heat and rhythm welcomes you just for stopping by. But you are on the outside, the winds cutting through your sexiest clothing. Between you and the club stands the bouncer. He's firm and bribery will get you nowhere. Can you convince him let you past the velvet rope hanging betwixt the steel posts into the club. The club's pulsing sound system is beating the rhythm and rhyme against your soul, alone in the rain. Sure you have your friends, and the club owner clearly has his, for some breeze by the rope, but at that moment, you face the rope alone. The old bouncer cracks a smile at you and says, "Y'see, the problem is, the owner, he's got standards. Not just anyone gets into the club, let alone gets to see the back room. I oughta know, I've been watchin' this rope for years. Used to be a real dump, anyone who showed up got in, but see, about six months ago, he started remodeling the place, turned it into a real class act, found the hardwood floors under the wrecked vinyl, and suchlike. Now a days, he only wants to let certain people into the club. The right folk, y'take my meanin'. He was always particular, but he never really put it into words till here lately." Inside you can see the dancers partying. the silly giggles of playfulness mixed with the liquor that is the love of life. Where every day is a party of dreams realized, with no more empty nights of waking up in bed with that guy who just can't satisfy, no more sloshing down booze to hide the hurt of facing a bed empty of dreams. "I bet you wanna know if you qualify to get past the rope. Well first off, if yer married, ferget it. He don't need that in his life. If yer "Till Death Do Us" ain't worth spit, then how can he believe yah when yah say anything at tal?" The waft of the smell of well cooked passion foods wafts, sensuously sliding into your soul. Food of passion you could be partaking of, if you can but get by the bouncer. The Bouncer keeps on, "Second, if he ain't attracted, ain't nothing happening in, our outside of the backroom, if y'take my meanin'. So if y'weigh more than he does, y'might as well move on. If yer toned and tight, welll... it'll depend on what else yah got, o'course. "So yah, pictures are a good idea. Oh yah, He has zero tolerance for fakes, so if it ain't you on the picture, expect to be sittin' alone outside the club when he meets yah. Same thing goes if y'flake or ain't timely and don't let 'im know. He'll be there a bit early 15 minutes or so, and he'll let you be up to 15 minutes late, more than that, well that's jes too bad, he'll move on. "So like I was asayin' looks ain't enough, he's got an adventurous streak, so he'll wanna go places and do stuff like dancing Salsa. I hear he's working on Tango, too. Me I just mind the rope, but he, he likes livin' life to the fullest. None o' that Dinner and a Movie stuff, he'll take you places y've prolly never explored, and has fun ideas. The backroom's supposed to have some closets set aside for some fun ideas of his. That backroom does sound inviting, what it might look like, what might be there waiting for you? What might be the surprises in store? But first, you have to get by the bouncer. Near him is a little wooden box with a slot. "So, are ya gonna fill out the message and put it in his box there, or what? Yah ain't gettin' by the rope without it"

My Ideal Person See Above.

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