I went to a website's launch party a few weeks ago at this bar-cum-gallery. The invite had advertised an open bar. There wasn't one. The invite had advertised hundreds of interesting attendees. There weren't any that I could find in the clusters of people talking amongst themselves in various languages I don't speak. (The company is based in Europe).

The coolest thing about the entire event was this one piece of art hidden near the restroom. It was comprised of three panels of wood painted with the quote, "Be funny, be profound, or be quiet." A companion offered to stealthily apprehend it for me, but there's no way I could allow that. It's not the same as taking a bunch of extra napkins from a deli.

The reason I liked the artwork was that it's exactly how I feel. Each time I go to one of these events, I end up standing in a corner by myself - no one else from my company ever goes to these things - and wondering what everyone else could possibly be talking about. I hate to schmooze, especially with grown men wearing backpacks.

Just my luck, these are the very people who descend upon me, fluttering their business cards as if they were mate-attracting plumage. They want to know what I do and where and act so fascinated by it all. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, "Yep, I have a job just like you. How about that? I feel a real connection."

At my first press event, I quickly made friends with the bartender. I like talking to people frankly about their jobs. So I asked what was the weirdest event he'd bartended at that hotel. Does he judge people by the drinks they order? He told me that all the cheapskates drink soda at these events, because they can't get cut off. Then he pointed out a guy he'd caught trying to take a bottle of vodka.

"Pardon me," I cooed, fluttering my eyelids. "I've got to network now." He laughed and said I'd know where to find him.

I went table to table and met people representing various companies behind various products. One girl showed me this cool computer security device that scans fingerprints before opening password-protected applications and documents. It's perfect for paranoid geeks like my dad. Upon sharing this, she whispered, "You can keep it." Bada bing! Belated Father's Day gift.

There were cupcakes at another table for something no one cared about. Instant traffic. Suddenly everyone was swarming the least popular company there with small talk and a big sweet tooth.

I found myself perched in a corner with a swag bag, the canvas bag I always carry, a cocktail, and an overfrosted dessert. A man with the matted hair most often seen on Petfinder ads for animal shelters approached me with a big smile.

"I think we have the same hairdresser," he winked.

It was like he asked if anyone had ever told me I am the spitting image of Paula Jones. Not cool. And I'd just had a haircut!

I stared at him. "Who's your hairdresser?" the guy asked.

"Bumble and Bumble," I replied, barely making eye contact. "Yours?"

"God."

I realized I was dealing with someone who really needed to get kicked in the balls, but would probably enjoy it.

"That cupcake looks good. I'm Steve. I'm a photographer for _________ Magazine," he said.

I hadn't heard of his employer. I daresay the rest of humanity hasn't either.

Eventually Steve started asking me the typical dull questions that are innocuous enough if a stranger is normal. I felt I had to answer. This was a work function. Maybe I was getting Punk'd.

He asked where I'm from, and then said, "What a coincidence! I've been to Colorado!" That was his schtick - saying "What a coincidence!" and then following up with a detail that didn't match my answer.

He told me I had a European vibe, which translates to, "You look at me like you don't understand what I'm saying and would rather be submitting to a battery of government-provided medical tests right now."

Furball got one thing right.

If I had a scanner, I'd show all of you Steve's business card. It's actually a piece of photo paper adorned with pictures of him with celebrities, including Diddy, Paris Hilton, and Nicole Kidman. But wait, they look awfully shiny. I think they're wax figures.

However, I could be wrong. All the celebrities look really sullen standing next to Steve. These pictures could be the real deal!

Oh, and the name on the card is Shaggy Steve.

After I declined to give Steve one of my cards, I went to another table. That's when I met John, a guy who seemed nice enough. He was older. We swapped cards. I ran into him later, and we talked briefly.

He told me he has connections to other technology and business press events. I actually looked forward to an email about this breakfast series he told me about, which he later invited me to.

But since that breakfast, John has proven he wants to be more than a mentor. He has asked me out to lunch and dinner and even just dessert, despite the fact that I have mentioned I am dating someone. He'll ask what I did the previous weekend, and I'll casually say, "I went to the shooting range with the guy I'm dating who is 6'2" and has big, muscular arms." It's not entirely a lie.

Last week, John called with an extra ticket for a preview of the new Star Wars movie. I told him I had other plans. My geeky co-workers eavesdropped on the conversation and mouthed, "No! No! Just say yes!"

I've decided to tone down the bubbliness at these events, which is like saying, "I've decided to make Beavis and Butthead less cerebral." I was never looking for these people. Seriously, I only show my teeth to people with free Post-its.

That artpiece has inspired my new networking approach: to be so profoundly quiet it isn't funny.