Ahh, the club scene. It's a staple of modern singlehood, and it's not likely to fade away quietly. After all, where else can you bump and grind with a total stranger?

The "meat market" aura of this scene is like a beauty pageant with the heat turned up. First, there's the overall scan: You check out the parade of hopefuls, making mental notes of the ones that catch your eye. The women are made up, pushed up, pumped up and stuffed into swatches of fabric that appear to have been stolen from a doll factory. The men are gelled, cologned and in a perpetual state of muscle flexing.

So you narrow down your field quickly and squeeze your way over to the corner where Contestant #1 is leaning against a wall. He's cute, he's smiling and he’s made eye contact. But will he make it to the second round?

Dancing: The talent competition
Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. The warm-up doesn't look bad. But... what's that he's doing now? Oh, no. Is he moonwalking? Disqualified!

You look for an opportunity to break away and quit embarrassing yourself just by being within ten feet of this guy. He makes a desperate attempt to sway the judging; he lunges at you and grabs you around the waist, bringing you in for a scene right out of Dirty Dancing.

"I have to go meet my friends," you call over your shoulder as you hurry away.

It doesn't really matter what you said anyway; he can't hear you over the pounding bass. You might as well have said, "I have to go back to my mothership now."

Contestant #2 shows more promise. His dance moves aren't hideous, and he doesn't try to grope you. You make it through the song without feeling the urge to flee.

Conversation: The personal interview
He points you toward the bar and does some fancy sign language that means, "Can I buy you a drink?"

You smile and nod. With the noise level at the bar just one decibel lower than a jackhammer, you can vaguely make out what he's saying.

"So, what do you do?" you ask. You can hear every third word: "Mumble mumble professional gambler. Mumble mumble blackjack mumble debt." He falls out of the running.

Contestant #3 might have made it into the finals if he hadn't belched out the alphabet, and Contestant #4 lost it when he mentioned his fourth ex-wife. You suddenly realize you wore those uncomfortable strappy shoes for nothing.

Back at home, you start to see the value of meeting people online. Sure, some of those same characters might just pop up in your inbox, but it's a lot easier to hit the "delete" key than to try making a graceful exit from the club. And you can check out a guy’s free profile first, weeding out the ones who mention an obsession with video games or polka.

So leave the pageants to the beauty queens, turn in those pointy shoes in favor of slippers and get that mouse in gear. Search for local singles because romance just might be waiting for you online.

Jenna Glatzer, Match.com