Six months back, following our Halloween party (the infamous Hell’s Kitchen Museum of Curious Deaths), one of my high school friends emailed to get the phone number of another guest, a documentary film producer who he had flirted with briefly at the party, and wanted to ask out.

I checked with her to see if she’d mind, then passed the number along. As I saw them both rather infrequently, and neither mentioned it again, I assumed that he’d perhaps not called, or that the date hadn’t really gone anywhere.

Still, last night, at the Mother of All Parties, I saw the two talking again. How cute, I thought. A second chance.

Not exactly. Apparently, the first chance had been more than enough, as the two weren’t meeting up again at this second party – they had come together. They’ve been dating since our first shindig, and are moving in with each other June 1st.

Parties here at the Gotham Sugar Shack: alcohol abuse and effective matchmaking, all rolled into one. Damn we’re good.