Where have all the pretty boys gone?

It's been really hot in California this week. So hot that I haven't been sleeping much. That made me tired and philosophical--not a pretty combination. A few nights ago, I got out of bed and spent an hour on my balcony in the cool air trying to analyze the questions posed in my last blog.

I decided it's time to go clubbing again. I gave up clubbing after a disastrous experience last April. I was in Arizona and one of my gal-pals and I decided to go out one night. We went to the premiere club. The music was harsh; there were women dancing on tables while downing fluorescent drinks. That should have been my first clue that I was in the wrong place.

We wound our way through writhing bodies to the center of the dance floor. I began to move and suddenly felt a hand snake around my side and grab my breast. The owner of the hand then attempted to grind his pelvis into my backside. Of course, I turned in all my liberated fury to push the guy off of me. Unfortunately, that exposed me to another thrill-seeker who molested me. I was repulsed but off-balance. I teetered on unfortunately high platforms, which caused me to fall slightly into a couple who assumed I was looking for a menage a trois. After a moment wrestling with them, I sprinted to a corner table and collapsed in blessed anonymity to await my friend, who was seeking safety as well.

The whole eXperience led me to abandon clubs. I've missed them, though. My favorite club is located in Universal City. It is a total tourist draw, so the crime and drugs are less evident. That's not what I love about it, though. The Rumba Room, I've realized, is one of the few places where you can still experience the art of seduction.

I call The Rumba Room my one-stop self-confidence shopping center. The cover is high, so the dance floor never becomes a sea of bodies like other less-expensive clubs. There are always men trolling for one-night stands just like every other club in LA, but they're using the kind of bait that makes you look forward to the hook.

My best night at The Rumba Room was more than a year ago. Daniel claimed me almost immediately. We didn't speak; he stood in front of me and beckoned me onto the dance floor with one quick jerk of the head. I held out my hand. He took it, kissed it and we started dancing. The first dance was all about fun. The second, flirty. The third, well, it was an extension of both. I don't really remember his lines or the way we moved, but I remember the progression of events. Daniel moved closer to my body, then kissed my neck and finally my face. He was sensual, deliberate, and beautiful. As opposed to feeling used and degraded, my experience in The Rumba Room empowered me.

I recently attended A Little Night Music at the Ahmanson. (I worship Victor Garber.) In one scene, an old woman laments the disappearance of the love affair. I share her sorrow. Have we confused sex and seduction? I certainly didn't feel seduced in the Arizona club despite the stimulating activities underway. But I felt completely undone by a man I never even kissed. The guys' goals were the same in both events, only the path of attainment changed.

I've only been in love once in my life. He consumed me. His gift, I realized that night on my balcony, was seduction. I noticed him when he held my gaze at a party. He claimed me when he teased me for blatantly prolonging a chess game just to spend a few more minutes with him. And I fell in love with him when, without a word, he crossed a room to me at the moment I had willed him to do it. A touch of his hand became the most sensual event in my life.

While the relationship was desperately flawed, it elevated my expectations for romance. I pity people who have never experienced a good seduction and think that the mindless groping in a club could replace a lingering, silent gaze or the nearly imperceptible brush of fingers on a shoulder. So, I've realized, I'm not unwilling to be in love. I merely have higher expectations than the modern mating ritual.

That said, I think I'll head to the Rumba Room this week. I could use an elevation in self esteem.