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I had never been to a singles mixer before, but from what I've been told, the mixologists are unique to Social Concierge.

Having a designated "wingman/woman" at the ready is a nice touch, especially in New York.

On a recent Wednesday night at a yoga studio in midtown Manhattan, a bearded man approached me and whispered in my ear, “I apologize for all the hurt my brothers have caused you.” He held me close for a few seconds and rubbed my back as we inhaled deeply together.

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Not every great conversationalist can write a killer profile. The women sitting in those cozy conversations seemed to have already picked out their guys and sunk their hooks into them. All the women I spoke to that night weren’t stereotypical crabby competitors.

I mean, I give good text, but this levels out the playing field, right? I could actually see my fellow females' smiles soften as we realized talking to each other was a breather from the hunt in the urban jungle.

On a first date I once had, the guy compared dating apps to slot machines; the human element is removed, and there is no real indicator of chemistry. We never had a second date, but the analogy was on-the-nose. By the time I arrived, everyone seemed either paired off or already sitting with a co-ed group and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be the interloper. I was fully expecting stereotypical hunting behavior, and I wasn't feeling up for confrontation. “If you don’t belong here, then neither do I,” Kaitlyn, a fellow first-timer, replied with a smile.

Social Concierge offers an alternative, a chance to see a person, hear their voice, smell their breath (for better or worse) and let them buy you a drink. They had already gotten comfortable if they were already sitting in a group, I assumed. So instead of approaching a mixed XX-XY group, I put my coat and bag on a couch where a group of friendly-looking 20-something women were gathered, and asked if anyone had been to a mixer before. Her friend Katie explained that she joined for the monthly fee of $25, submitted her photo, provided her employer’s name (Social Concierge verifies by social media or a phone call to the applicant), but said that she was entry-level — not the rich mover and shaker I thought members had to be.

I will literally be bumping into people, I thought, so maybe I'll be able to chat easier without feeling like a lone gazelle on a vast plane in the Serengeti.

I ran into a pretty confident guy, Leo, who approached me by the bar, where the majority of folks seemed to gather.

” Leo seemed to be the only participant with a solid game plan.

Like, he knew the answers to where to move, what to say when — not calculated, but like he had crib notes.

Despite my fearless reputation among friends, I was nervous as hell.

Red-lipped and wearing heels, I went to Ballroom Romance, a private event, hosted by the dating club Social Concierge.

New Yorkers live in a huge city, the hippest club around, surrounded by 8 million other people, but we often times avoid interaction. We never make eye contact with the person walking the opposite way on the sidewalk. The only corsage I found was pinned to Ben Goodman, the marketing and events consultant for Social Concierge, who introduced me to Jackson. Ethically, I had to disclose to Jackson and the others I spoke to that night that I’m a reporter and planned to write about my experience, which kind of took away some of the fun.

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