When I arrived at Vibe around 8:30 p.m., the place was just beginning to fill up. Bunny, Regina, and Grace had nabbed a comfy couch and chairs right next to the dance floor in front of one of Famos!'s huge, pounding speakers. This was obviously not going to be a night for deep conversation.
"Let's dance!" screamed Regina, and began clapping and gyrating to the music, her wild curly hair streaming.
"She's like Shakira," I said, impressed. No one heard me over the pulsating beat.
Bunny and Grace jumped up to join Regina, the three of them forming an exuberant, sensual troika on an otherwise empty dance floor. The rest of Vibe's patrons and I watched from the sidelines. If I was going to be any match these chicks' crazy-dance-partying 'tude, I needed alcohol. I gulped my chardonnay and checked out the scene.
It was still early and the pickings were slim. Definitely way more women than men, and the few unattached guys weren't attractive. Bunny spun by, pointing at a big reddish-bearded dude at the bar.
"Look at that guy!" she shouted. "He looks like Man-from-Pulp-Fiction! Man-from-Mask!" I was confused; John Travolta wasn't in Mask. Oh, I realized. She meant actor Eric Stoltz.
During a break in the action, Regina got inspired. She was going to become a professional dancer for Bizar! "You know, a middle-age dancer, to get all the old guys going at weddings and bar mitzvahs!"
Soon she had secured a Bizar t-shirt from Famos! and a pair of scissors from the bartender. In minutes, Regina created a sexy, middle-age dancing girl top, which she threw on. Prancing over to Man-Who-Looks-Like-Eric-Stolz and his friends, she beckoned them out on the floor. They just shook their heads.
"I got rejected by three ugly guys!" she squealed, not one bit put out.
The room began to fill up and, loose from my guzzled drink, I jumped up to shake it to Beyonce's All the Single Ladies.
"Hey!" I yelled in Grace's ear. "There's a really hot guy standing by the bar!"
Grace (looking kind of Flash Dance in her one-shouldered top) checked him out, nodded and shrugged. "If you think a guy is cute and he's gonna come up and talk to you, you're wrong. They never make the first move. Never."
For a minute I was really offended that the hot guy would never, ever make a move on me. Then I remembered I was married. It was getting confusing out there.
Regaining my journalistic objectivity, I realized it would take one very secure dude to approach the Posse while they were getting their dance on. The women seemed so happy, so complete, so engaged - all on their own. Only the most confident, cocky hombre would dare break into this group.
Later, I told Bunny I thought the Posse might be intimidating to guys.
"Really?" she said, surprised. "Well, we must not care that much about them then."
To read more of my series on divorce & dating, page down through my blog.
Next time: If you don't properly appreciate the Posse, you must be gay.