Two conveyor belts that go in opposite directions are laid next to each other. Girls on one side, boys on the other. It's a game, you see, the game of making it remain what it is. The conveyor belt goes slowly enough for you to get to know someone a bit too well, but too fast for the little rainbow cloud above your heads to form. The key, then, is to enjoy each one you pass on the conveyor belt, with a tease, a wink. Inch closer to the edge of the belt; toe the line, just make sure you don't fall off. The key is in inching as close to the edge of the belt as possible without falling off, without ousting yourself from your spot in the game. The stupidest thing you can do is to hold on to any one person.
So you let your hearts make brief contact and move on, move on. Hurry, now, he needs to leave; number five is waiting. You do not, I repeat, you don't let your heart latch on to anyone. Tear it off if you must, but that leaves the edges raw and hurting for a while.
And this is why you don't play your game of hedonism here, not on me. See, I haven't mastered this game yet. I continue to fall off, even when I've strapped myself onto the belt, and my heart always leaves the game raw.