I haven't gotten too personal on this blog yet, but now's as good a time as any. Five years ago last Thursday, at a drum n' bass party at the now-shuttered legendary New York City nightclub The Roxy, I suggested that a cute boy and I find somewhere to "talk about film." Code words for: Let's go sneak into VIP and makeout.

That happened about a month after our first, brief encounter. We first met, drenched in sweat and bouncing like "Pogo Sticks Gone Wild" at DJ Danny Howells' epic residency at also defunct NYC club arc. I think our first conversation went something like this:

C: "HEY!!" (bounce, bounce bounce) "THIS TRACK IS SICK!"
S: (bounce, bounce, bounce) "WHAT!??! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"
C: "I SAID" (bounce, bounce, swigs water) "THIS TRACK IS SIIIICK!"
S: "YEAH" (bounce, bounce) "TOTALLY!"

I think there was a failed attempt at a name exchange and a lame handshake until we drifted away in the night, separated by the throbbing, head-bobbing masses.

Lots of people warn of the dangers of meeting mates at bars and clubs, that nothing good will come of what often happen to be shady encounters. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones. Instead of losing my cellphone and possibly some dignity, I gained a loving partner that shares many of the same interests as me, including a passion for all things EDM. That's better than all the drink tickets in the world, I'd say.

Five years after that fateful night, we're still fist-pumping and body-thumping to techno, electro, house and more, and doing it together. So be on the lookout, Beijingers, because you never know when you'll find your destiny under the discoball.