It’s Sunday afternoon. It’s a beautiful day in Sydney and I have just been watching “The Bill”. It’s the episode where Sun Hill is attacked and stupid bloody Des Tavnner throws a molotov cocktail through the window to destroy the forged pound notes, but actually sets off a series of explosions. I assure you it’s better than it sounds. I had to tape “The Bill” because I went to the RSVP Singles Party last night with a couple of mates. And yes, it was a Singles Party, not a Swingers Party.

When we arrived at about 8.15pm (it started at 7.30), there was probably about 100 people standing around the room mingling. As we entered we were given nametags and a “task” for the night. Some people had tasks such as “find someone with a nice smile”, while mine was “find a woman with the matching special symbol on her card”. How difficult was that? So I gave up… and had a few drinks instead.

As the party was held poolside at the Novotel at Sydney’s Darling Harbour, the theme for the night was “Hawaiin Cocktail Party”, we had dressed with “Hawaiin Shirts”. Most people just dressed according to their tastes and age. One woman looked like Frida in the “Take A Chance On Me” video clip, complete with that frizzy hair of hers at the time. Another looked like Bob Hawke’s wife, Blanche d’Apulget. There were lots of young chicks in their 20s and 30s (many of whom were incredibly short) and there were lots of young blokes in their 20s, 30s, and 40s (many of whom were incredibly bald). So, for the first party of the night, we checked out the eye-candy. There was a cute farm boy called Patrick.

Drink drink drink. We ate spring rolls dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Perve perve perve. Drink drink drink. We ate spring rolls dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Perve perve perve. Drink drink drink. We ate spring rolls dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Perve perve perve. Drink drink drink. We ate spring rolls dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Perve perve perve. Drink drink drink. We ate spring rolls dipped in sweet chilli sauce. Perve perve perve. etc…

Now to the action. My friend – who is exploring the heterosexual side of his sexuality – met a girl and they chatted for hours. My other friend hung around and watched the scene, and I had a few drinks and danced a bit. They played Kylie, ABBA, Madonna… all my favourites… in fact I think the choice of music may have been an attempt to identify the homosexual men in the crowd. I have never been at a party before where all of the straight men left the door when “Dancing Queen” came on. As I looked around I could see several possibly-homosexual men looking nervously aside as they lip-synched to “Dancing Queen”. Anyway… “Dancing Queen” was an obvious flop and so the DJ increased the speed of the song and it was over just in time for the straight men – who had gone to get drinks – to be back on the floor. The DJ did, however, play my request for “Crying At The Discoteque” which was great, although no one really got into it quite like I did. In fact… and I apologise for the overgeneralisation… but they were all crappy dancers.

Overall it was a good fun night, good conversation, a lovely setting, a few drinks, a bit of a perve, lots of spring rolls, although I’m not sure if I’d ever do it again.